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THE     HORSE,     AS     COMRADE 
AND     FRIEND 


THE 

HORSE,  AS  COMRADE 
AND  FRIEND 


FESTINA    LENTE" 


BY 

EVERARD    R.   CALTHROP,  m.inst.c.e.,  m.i.mech.e. 

Chevalier  oj  the  Order  oj  St.  Maurice  and  St.  Lazarus. 

Member  of    Council  ej  the  National  Pony  Society,  and 

of  the  Arab  Horse  Society. 


G.    p.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

NEW    YORK 

1921 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  by 
Miller,  Son  &  Company,  Fakenham  and  London. 


Rohan    in    1901,  aged    10,    with    Keith,    Iris    and    Betty    up 


Rohan    in    1914,    aged    23,   with    Betty   up,    and  Sam 

[To  hack  frontispiece 


T^W^^Iwyf^:-  "^•^i 


£  a 


z 

I 
o 

cc 


To 
The  Dear  Memory  of 

ROHAN 

My  old  Arab  Stallion 

One  of  the  Noblest  Horses  God  ever  made 

AND 

My  Best  and  Truest  Comrade  and  Friend 


CONTENTS 
Foreword 

Chap. 

I.     Basic  Principles  of  Handling 
AND  Training 

II.     Bringing  the  Wild  Horse  up 
FROM  Pasture 

III.  The  First  Handling 

IV.  The  Second  Handling 
V.     Training  to  Saddle 

VI.  Handling  in  the  Stable 

VII.  Training  for  Riding 

VIII.  Training  for  Riding  {Con.) 

IX.  Training  for  Riding  {Con.) 

X.  Training  for  Riding  {Con.) 

XI.  Training  for  Jumping    . 

XII.  Training  for  Driving     . 

XIII.  The  Most  Wonderful  Thing 

in  the  World 

XIV.  Two  Mysteries 
Afterword     . 


11 

17 

23 

39 

61 

71 

89 

101 

111 

125 

143 

159 

179 
217 
239 


LIST     OF     ILLUSTRATIONS 

Rohan,  aged  10  and  23    -        -        -        -  Pre- Frontispiece 

Rohan,  from  the  Water  Colour  Portrait  by  the  Author  Frontispiece 

,  ,  To  face  page 

Rohan  and  Marpegorby,  1916 ;  and  Rohan  in  1906     -  14 

Rohan  in  1906 ;  with  some  of  his  descendants  in  1912 ; 

and  with  one  of  his  sons 15 

Father   on   Father,   and  Son   on   Son  ;    Playmates  in 

the  Paddock -        -        -  36 

Playing  at  "  Wild  Injuns  "  ;    Betty  on   Kitty  VIII., 

AND  Iris  on  Rohan 37 

Legstkap  and  its  Application,  Figs.  I.  and  II.   -        -  46 

How  TO  Handle  a  Foal 52  and  53 

Marzouk  in  1906      -        - 64 

FiTz,    a    battle-scarred    hero,    who    served  through    the 

Palestine  and  Senussi  Campaigns     -        -        -        -  65 
Paris  Omnibus,  with  team  of  three  Percheron  stallions; 
and   six    Percheron   stallions   pulling   20  tons  up  a 

heavy  gradient 80 

Heavy  Draught  Percheron  Stallions  in  Paris  -        -  81 

Gladys  Calthbop  and  Skewbald  Filly         -        -  92 

Marladi  and  Swan  ;   Rohan's  Last  Gift   and  the  two 

Romarsandos      --------  93 

Marpegorby  and  Musket  at  Play         -        -          104  and  105 

Ro-Akbar's  Antics   --------  120 

Rotunda   I.    and   Rotunda   II. ;    sisters   who  could  not 

be  parted    -        -         -         ■         .         .         .         .         .  121 

Marsanda  as  a  Chestnut  Filly  and  a  Grey  Mare     -  136 

Marsanda's  Chestnut  Filly  Foal,  and  Rohan  s  Last 

Gift,  with  training  headstalls 137 

Jumping  an  Invisible  Fence 150 

Is  this  a  Unique  Occurrence? 151 

Teaching  Rosanda  II.  to  jump  in  hand         -        -        -  152 

RosANDA  II.  (13  h.  3  in.)  jumping  6  ft.  and  6  ft.  3  in.        -  153 

Rotund  and  the  Boy  Scouts 192 

The  Zebra  Striping  of  Foals 193 

The  Birth  of  a  Foal      -        -        -        -  200,  201  and  212 

Rotund  II.  and  Lynton,  with  Sam  Up          -        -        -  213 
The  Water  where  Windermere  Died  ;  Mafia  and  her 

filly  foal,  Marmafia 238 

The  Black  "Guardian  Angel"  Parachute           -        -  239 


LOWTHER, 

Penrith, 
5th  November,  1917. 

Dear  Mr.  Calthrop, 

I  have  read  your  book,  which  I  now 
return,  and  deeply  regret  that  I  have  taken  so 
long  to  do  it,  but  I  have  been  so  very  busy. 
I  have  now  read  every  word  of  it,  and  entirely 
agree  -with  practically  all  that  you  have  said. 
Also  I  entirely  agree  with  your  views. 

As  regards  what  I  might  term  "  instantaneous 
breaking "  :  to  anybody  who  reaUy  under- 
stands animals,  like  yourself,  it  is  perfectly 
obvious  and  I  quite  agree  with  all  you  say. 
I  knew  Sample  and  Galvayne  and  all  those 
breaking  men  very  well.  Sample  was  really 
by  far  the  best  of  them ;  Galvayne  was  merely 
an  imitation,  and  a  moderate  one,  of  Sample. 

I  hope  that  you  will  succeed  with  your 
publication,  for  it  is  certainly  deserving  of 
every  success,  as  it  is  full  of  merit,  and  the 
principles  and  everything  on  which  you  found 
your  system  is,  in  my  humble  and  probably 
valueless  opinion,  perfectly  right. 

I  am  perfectly  certain  that  no  real  cure 
can  be  made  with  a  savage  animal,  except  of  a 
temporary  character,  in  which  the  owner  or 
user  of  the  horse  has  not  made  and  given  the 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

animal  that  he  is  breaking  absolute  and  com- 
plete confidence  and  justice.  Horses  and  dogs 
are  like  children  and  at  times  want  correct- 
ing, but  correcting  an  animal  that  makes  a 
mistake  when  it  knows  it  is  wrong  is  a  totally 
different  thing  from  abusing  and  knocking  an 
animal  about,  such  as  one  often  sees. 

I  have  seen  some  of  the  much-advertised 
methods  of  breaking  the  mldest  of  remounts. 
It  is  true  that  they  are  broken,  to  an  extent, 
but  it  is  their  spirit  that  is  broken  not  their 
nature  or  tempers  altered  and  calmed.  But 
the  result  is,  I  suppose,  satisfactory  to  the 
breaker,  but  it  can  only  be — and  is — tem- 
porary. However,  you  go  into  such  detail 
and  so  very  admirably  that  it  would  be  im- 
pertinent to  make  remarks  on  what  evidently 
you  understand  better  than  I  do. 

Thanking  you  for  having  allowed  me  to  see 
the  book  before  it  is  published,  and  again 
wishing  it  every  possible  success. 

Believe  me. 

Yours  truly, 
f signed)  Lonsdale. 


FOREWORD 

I  COME  of  a  family,  who  for  some  hundreds 
of  years  have  been  notable  for  an  exceed- 
ing love  of  their  horses,  and  for  their 
somewhat  remarkable  influence  over  them. 
No  records  remain  as  to  the  exact  nature  of 
the  methods  of  horsecraft  employed  by  my 
forebears,  but  my  own  success  in  my  younger 
days  in  handling  and  taming  all  sorts  of  diffi- 
cult, tricky  and  vicious  horses — sometimes 
quite  unapproachable  by  other  men — and  of 
inducing  them  to  lead  subsequently  virtuous 
and  blameless  lives,  makes  me  believe  that  my 
powers  are  hereditary,  and  that,  therefore, 
my  ancestors  have  probably  worked  much  on 
the  same  lines  as  I  have  myself.  Owing  to 
age  and  growing  infirmities,  I  am  no  longer 
able  to  handle,  tame  and  ride  wild  horses  as  I 
once  could  ;  but  my  love  for  all  horses  remains 
as  strong  as  ever,  and,  thank  God,  so  does 
their  love  for  me.  The  horse  that  is  your  friend 
never  lets  you  know  that  he  thinks  you  old. 

By  a  coincidence,  I  recently  received  almost 
together  several  letters  from  Yorkshire  and 
Essex,  in  which  I  was  asked  to  give  advice 
as   to    the    best    methods    of    breaking   horses 


Foreword 

three  and  four  years'  old,  which,  on  account 
of  the  war,  and  the  scarcity  of  men,  had  received 
no  kind  of  handUng  and  were  extremely  wUd.* 
It  has  occurred  to  me  that  this  may  be  the  case 
with  young  horses  in  many  parts  of  the 
country,  and  that,  therefore,  it  might  be  of 
use  to  many  owners,  and  save  horses  much 
mistreatment  at  the  hands  of  incompetent 
grooms,  if  I  could  put  in  writing,  in  a  way 
to  be  generally  understood,  the  principles  of 
my  own  methods  of  training.  I  have  seen  so 
much  mishandling  and  brutal  treatment  of 
horses,  by  men  who  do  not  understand  them, 
that  I  should  be  glad  if  anjrthing  I  could  write 
might  perchance  save  a  few  horses  from  such 
wrong-doing.  My  two  sons  being  in  the  Army, 
helping  to  tame  the  Huns,  and  my  first  grand- 
sons having  only  just  arrived  on  this  planet, 
it  is  unlikely  that  I  shall  have  the  privilege 
of  imparting  my  methods  to  these  youngsters 
by  personal  instruction ;  and  it  has,  therefore, 
been  an  additional  inducement  to  write  this 
little  book,  in  order  to  hand  down  such  special 
knowledge  of  horsecraft,  as  I  possess,  to  my 
own  descendants. 

I  have  been  in  many  parts  of  the  world 
and  have  seen  and  studied  many  methods  of 
breaking,  training,  and  taming  horses,  includ- 
ing those  of  quite  celebrated  tamers,  such  as 
Captain    Hayes,    Galvayne,    Professor    Smith, 

*This  Foreword  was  written  in  1917. 
2 


Foreword 

and  many  others  of  lesser  note.     In  the  cases 
of  all  of  them  the  spectacular  subjugation  of 
horses  in  a  few  minutes  was  the  leading  motif — 
with  an  eye  to  gate  money.     In  a  number  of 
instances  I  have  taken  the  trouble  to  follow 
up  the  results  of  these   Hghtning  cures,   and 
have  found,  in  some  cases,  that  after  a  few 
days  the  horse  had  become  much  worse  than 
he  was   before.     I   was   present   when  a   pro- 
fessional tamer  came  out  to  a  British  Depend- 
ency with  a  great  flourish   of  trumpets,   and 
collected   all   the   hard   subjects   in   a    certain 
city    for   demonstration    of   the   value    of   his 
treatment.     These     included     some     artillery 
horses,  with  bad  characters  for  stubbornness 
and  evil  temper.     They  came  upon  the  ground, 
giving  all  sorts  of  trouble,  with  half  a  dozen 
men   hanging   on   to   each.     His    system   con- 
sisted   of    strapping    them    up,    pulling    them 
down    by    main    force,    beating    drums    and 
kerosene  tins  over  their  heads,  firing  off   guns 
and  the  like.     When  they  were  stood  up  again, 
they   were   trembling   and    completely    dazed, 
and   one   man   could,   without   difficulty,   lead 
each  about  in  a  sort  of  dull,  mechanical  manner. 
This  result  was  claimed  as  a  great  triumph  for 
the  system,  but  ten  days  later  one  of  the  artillery 
horses    killed     his     groom,     and     the     others 
developed  such  appalling  ferocity  that  within 
a   month   all  were  shot.     Other  rogue   horses 
in  the  same   city,  treated  in  the  same  way, 

3 


Foreword 

were  found  subsequently  to  be  much  the  worse 
for  it,  and  several  had  to  be  destroyed.  The 
same  sequelae  followed  demonstrations  in 
other  large  cities,  and,  when  this  became 
generally  known,  the  tour  of  instruction  came 
to  an  end. 

Another    lightning    tamer,    whose    demon- 
strations a  good  many  years  ago  I  often  attended, 
certainly   had   the   art   of   bringing   the   most 
refractory  and  impossible  animal  under  com- 
plete control  within  a  very  few  minutes.     He 
had  perfect  command  of  his  temper,  indomit- 
able pluck,  always  spoke  to  his  horses  cheerily 
and  kindly,  though  firmly  ;  and  had  an  illimit- 
able stock  of  raillery  and  cajolery,  which  seemed 
to  be  appreciated  by  even  the  most  ferocious 
of  Ms   exhibits.     He  was  never  cruel  to   his 
pupils,    and,    although    at    first    afraid    of    an 
ingenious    shock    treatment,    which    was    his 
speciality,  they  ended  by  obviously  enjoying 
it    thoroughly.      In    conversation    he    frankly 
admitted  to  me  that  the  sudden  quelHng  of  a 
horse  had  Httle  permanent  effect ;  but  it  was 
necessary  for  the  attraction  and  entertainment 
of  his  pubUc.     For  the  permanent  obliteration 
of  bad  habits,  he  agreed  that  a  long  and  gradual 
course  was  necessary ;  but  that  would  not  fill 
a  big  hall  and  bring  in  gate  money.     I  followed 
up  a  number  of  cases  of   horses  treated  only 
once  or  twice  at  his    most  interesting  show, 
and  although  this  extremelj^  able  expert  had 


Foreword 

most  effectually  overcome  their  tricks  in  the 
arena,  I  learnt  from  several  of  the  owners, 
whose  names  and  addresses  he  always  an- 
nounced, that,  as  I  had  expected,  the  effect 
was  only  temporary  and  they  could  perceive 
no  permanent  improvement.  They  had  ex- 
pected a  permanent  cure,  without  further 
trouble  to  themselves,  and  were  disappointed. 
But  in  none  of  these  cases  did  I  hear  of  any 
bad  effect  being  produced.  The  tamer  was 
always  wiUing  to  advise  owners,  who  sent  their 
animals  to  his  exhibition,  exactly  how  to 
treat  them  afterwards,  and  in  the  case  of  the 
few  who  had  taken  the  trouble  to  follow  his 
instructions  closely,  they  spoke  highly  of  the 
prehminary  treatment  in  the  arena  as  being 
the  start  of  better  behaviour,  which  they  had 
been  able,  by  following  the  tamer's  directions, 
to  make  permanent. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  show-taming,  unless 
followed  by  better  and  more  intelligent  treat- 
ment of  the  horses  by  their  attendants,  is  of 
little  service.  In  this  book  I  endeavour  to 
impress  upon  the  reader  that  the  best  way  to 
train  a  horse  is  by  a  multiplicity  of  little  steps, 
each  of  which  is  well  within  the  brain  capacity 
of  the  horse  to  thoroughly  understand  ;  and  to 
win  his  confidence  and  affection  to  such  an 
extent  that,  of  his  own  volition,  he  will  do 
the  things  you  want  him  to  do.  Everything  is 
difficult  if  the  horse  is  in  antagonism  ;  if  he 


Foreword 

willingly  co-operates  with  you,  everything,  no 
matter  how  difficult,  is  made  quite  easy  of 
accompHshment.  "  It's  the  way  he  has  wid 
them "  was  said  of  a  sunny-hearted  Irish 
horse-breaker  of  my  acquaintance,  whose 
horses  loved  him  and  did  anything  he  wanted 
of  them.  Try  the  sunny -hearted  way — it's 
the  right  one. 

The  system  of  slow  and  gradual  training,  as 
described  in  this  book,  is  set  out  at  length  to 
enable  any  man  or  woman,  without  expert 
knowledge,  to  undertake  the  training  of  horses 
for  their  own  use,  or  for  sale.  For  their  per- 
sonal service  they  would  be  anxious,  no  doubt, 
to  make  them  the  most  perfect  companions 
possible,  and  would  be  wilHng  to  devote  con- 
siderable time  to  secure  the  very  best  results. 
To  those  who  have  sufficient  leisure,  I  advise 
the  very  gradual  training  I  have  described 
as  being  well  worth  while ;  for  a  horse  so  trained 
can  be  ridden  or  driven  by  anybody,  and 
becomes  the  most  perfect  companion  and 
comrade  conceivable.  But  it  is  not  possible 
for  everyone,  particularly  those  in  charge  of 
large  horse-runs  and  ranches  who  have  to 
handle  very  large  numbers  of  horses,  to  expend 
so  much  time  on  individual  animals;  and  it 
may  be  well  for  it  to  be  known  that  the  system 
can  be  very  much  speeded  up,  the  more  so, 
if  the  training  is  confined  just  to  essentials. 
The  following  are  instances.     At  Secunderabad, 


Foreword 

India,  I  broke  into  harness  in  a  single  day, 
and  so  thoroughly  as  to  give  no  trouble  after- 
wards, a  well-knoAVTi  and  very  high-spirited 
racing  pony  (Mail-Train)  for  a  friend.  At 
Castle  Connell,  Ireland,  at  the  end  of  a  holiday, 
I  came  across  a  well-known  three-year-old 
entire  thoroughbred  (Pat  Macuncas),  with 
whose  make  and  shape  and  jumping  avidity 
I  was  particularly  taken,  but  who  was  very 
wild.  My  first  view  of  him  was,  when,  startled 
by  my  dogcart,  he  promptly  took  a  five  feet 
stone  wall  to  join  some  other  youngsters  in 
the  next  enclosure,  although  there  was  an  open 
gateway  less  than  a  hundred  yards  away. 
His  owner,  an  old  farmer,  had  been  over- 
powered by  him  and  had  never  taken  him  out 
of  his  pasture,  or  handled  him  in  any  way, 
since  he  was  a  yearling,  so  I  had  to  buy  him  as 
he  stood  and  train  him  as  quickly  as  I  could. 
It  took  me  a  day  to  catch  him  ;  I  made  him 
lie  down  at  my  word  on  the  second  day  ;  rode 
him  on  the  third  and  fourth  days  ;  and  on  the 
fifth  day  rode  him  through  Limerick,  and 
boxed  and  shipped  him  to  England.  It  was  a 
very  siu-prising  experience  for  this  horse 
brought  straight  from  his  pasture,  and  it  was 
curious  to  see  how  he  relied  upon  me  for 
encouragement  and  guidance.  With  the  aid  of 
a  lump  or  two  of  sugar,  with  the  virtue  of 
which  I  had  made  him  acquainted,  he  followed 
me  into  the  railway  horse-box  and  on  board 

7 


Foreword 

the  steamer  at  Cork,  without  fear,  and  entirely 
of  his  own  accord.  On  landing  him  at  Liver- 
pool, I  rode  him  through  the  dense  traffic  of 
the  streets  and  on  to  Freshfield,  without 
any  untoward  incidents.  He  subsequently 
developed  great  affection  for  me.  In  really 
expert  hands,  any  unhandled  horse  can  be 
broken  to  saddle  on  this  system — and  so  that 
the  horse  at  once  regards  the  rider  as  his 
friend  and  protector,  and  not  as  his  enemy — in 
three  or  four  days.  But  he  still  requires  a 
good  rider,  and  is  not  yet  anybody's  horse. 
That  can  only  come  with  time,  and  further 
careful  training  of  the  same  sympathetic  kind. 

On  horse  ranches  in  the  United  States,  and 
in  Mexico,  I  have  seen  "  the  boys  "  round  up  a 
mob  of  the  wildest  ponies  imaginable,  and 
after  they  have  corralled  them,  pick  out  any  I 
liked  to  choose ;  and,  without  any  kind  of 
preparation,  lasso,  throw,  and  saddle  them 
and  thus  commence  their  education  without 
further  ado.  It's  the  most  magnificent  feat 
of  equitation  to  be  seen  in  the  wide  world — 
but  it's  a  fight — a  thrilling  contest  of  human 
and  equine  brains  and  endurance.  The  man 
wins,  but  he  leaves  the  horse  his  e^iemy.  I 
have  ridden  such  ponies,  long  after  the  contest 
and  when  they  are  considered  broken,  but  the 
embittered  effect  remains.  Any  stranger  to 
them  is  a  potential  enemy.  It  has  been  long 
before  such  a  pony  has  given  me  his  complete 


Foreword 

confidence,  and  has  treated  me  as  his  honoured 
friend;  but  with  pains  I  have  accomplished  it, 
and  it  was  worth  while  in  the  reward  of  his 
ultimate  great  affection. 

By  contrast,  take  the  case  of  the  Arab  horse, 
who  for  thousands  of  generations  has  been 
brought  up  in  the  tent  as  a  member  of  the 
family.  If  the  tent  isn't  big  enough  for  the 
family  and  the  mare  and  her  foal,  it  isn't  the 
mare  and  the  foal  who  have  to  go  and  sit  out- 
side. The  relationship  has  been  as  intimate 
as  that  of  an  Englishman  and  his  dog,  for  so 
many  thousands  of  generations,  that  the  brain 
development  of  the  Arab  horse,  and  his  in- 
telligence, is  nearly  on  a  par  with  that  of  an 
English  dog.  I  have  seen  many  thousands 
of  Arab  horses  imported  from  Arabia  into 
Bombay,  and,  for  some  years,  saw  probably 
every  one  that  arrived  each  season.  And  the 
characteristic  of  every  one  (with  the  most 
trifling  exception,  due  to  the  very  rare  cases 
of  ill-treatment)  was  the  most  perfect  comrade- 
ship with  man,  pleasure  at  being  taken  notice 
of,  and  ready  willingness  to  do  everything 
that  was  wanted  of  him.  I  was  made  welcome 
in  all  the  Arab  stables,  and  made  many  dear 
friends  amongst  the  horses.  The  Arab  dealer 
is  a  gentleman,  and  he  teaches  his  horse  to  be 
even  a  better  gentleman  than  himself — sans 
peur  et  sans  reproche.  For  me  the  Arab  horse, 
every  time.     There  is  no  horse  like  him. 

9 


Foreword 

I  hope  this  book  may  find  its  way  into  the 
hands  of  many  of  "  the  boys,"  who  have  done 
"  their  bit "  so  worthily  and  well,  and  who 
care  for  horses.  Many  have  had  great  and 
unusual  experiences  mth  horses  drawn  from 
every  quarter  of  the  globe  and  taken  to  all 
the  fighting  fronts.  If  they  should  appreciate 
what  I  have  written,  and,  if  they  can  spare  the 
time  and  would  care  to  write  and  tell  me 
of  their  own  experiences  with  horses — and 
amongst  "  the  boys  "  are  those  from  the  Great 
Dominions  and  Colonies,  from  the  States, 
from  Mexico,  from  India,  from  every  country, 
and  from  the  Isles  of  all  the  Seas — I  can  tell 
them  that  in  no  way  could  thej''  give  me 
greater  pleasure  than  by  doing  so.  I  wiU 
acknowledge  with  pleasure  every  communi- 
cation to  which  an  address  is  attached.  Many 
of  them  can  teU  tales  of  horses,  ponies,  mules, 
asses,  camels  and  other  riding,  draught  and 
pack  cattle  in  the  various  theatres  of  the  war. 
For  this  reason,  I  append  my  private  address, 
in  the  hope  that  some  of  the  boys  may  be 
prompted  to  accord  me,  what  I  should  value 
and  regard  as  a  great  privilege ;  for  such  stories 
would  add  so  immensely  to  the  information 
which  is  coming  in  from  where  great  deeds  are 
being  done,  and  it  is  all  so  well  worth  gathering  in. 

Goldings  Evebard   R.  Calthrop. 

Loughton,  Essex. 

5th  May,  1917. 

10 


BASIC    PRINCIPLES    OF    HANDLING 
AND    TRAINING 


CHAPTER   I 

BASIC  PRINCIPLES  OF  HANDLING 
AND    TRAINING 

THE  horses  and  ponies  which  come  into 
the  hands  of  the  trainer  are  of  all 
sorts,  ages,  heights,  shapes  and  sizes,  and 
their  temperaments  and  intelligence  and 
manners  are  of  every  possible  diversity ;  as 
are  also  their  previous  experiences  of  handling 
— good,  bad,  and  indifferent — on  the  part  of 
man.  This  book  has  been  written,  so  that  any 
intelligent  person — man  or  woman — with  no 
previous  knowledge  of  the  methods  of  educat- 
ing a  horse,  or  of  training  and  taming  bad 
horses,  can  undertake  to  train  their  own  young 
stock,  or  to  improve  the  manners  of  badly 
broken  animals,  with  the  certainty  of  success. 

As  stated  in  the  Foreword,  there  are  many 
animals  in  this  country  two  or  three  years  old, 
which,  through  the  departure  of  men  to  the 
Front,  have  never  been  handled  at  all,  and 
therefore  the  typical  case  has  been  taken  of 
how    to    break    in     a    particularly    wild    and 

13 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

nervous  unhandled  three- year-old  horse,  and  the 
problem  is  dealt  with  accordingly.  It  is 
appHcable  to  stallions,  mares  and  geldings  of 
every  sort  and  of  all  ages.  If  there  is  any 
redmidancy  of  explanation,  it  is  hoped  that,  as 
the  book  is  primarily  written  for  persons  without 
much  knowledge  of  horses,  it  may  be  forgiven. 

What  has  first  to  be  done  is  to  attract  the 
horse's  confidence,  and  then  his  affection. 
Ponies,  horses  and  cattle,  and,  in  fact,  all 
animals  handled  continuously  from  birth, 
acquire  this  confidence  so  completely  in  the 
man  who  loves  them  and  understands  their 
natures  as  from  within,  that  nothing  that  he 
can  do  will  either  disturb  or  frighten  them. 
Their  affection  for  him  is  so  strong  that  even 
the  infliction  of  severe  pain,  as  in  necessary 
surgical  operations,  is  borne  quite  patiently, 
the  animals  understanding  that  from  him — 
the  master — ^it  is  done  for  their  good.  To  be 
able  to  secure  the  whole-souled  affection  of  the 
noblest  animal  created — the  horse — is  a  gift  and 
privilege,  of  which  only  those  on  whom  it  is  con- 
ferred can  fully  appreciate  its  priceless  beauty. 

To  one  who  has  this  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  nature  of  the  horse,  there  is  no  exercise  of 
his  powers  more  thrilling  in  interest  than  in  the 
case  of  an  animal  that  has  grown  to  adult 
age  unhandled  and  without  knowledge  of  man. 
In  this  country    the  opportunities  of   finding 

11 


Rohan    and    Marpegorby,   1916 


Rohan    in    1906 


[I'o  face  page  lir 


Rohan,    in    1906 


Rohan    and    some    of     his    descendants,    1912 


Rohan    and    one  of  his    sons,   1912 


[To  face  page  15 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

such  an  animal,  other  than  hill  ponies,  are 
rare,  so  that,  when  they  do  occur,  they  should 
be  cherished  and  made  the  most  of,  as  an 
enormous  amount  of  pleasure  can  be  got  from 
observation  of  the  hereditary  defences  of  the 
horse,  which,  in  such  an  example,  are  quite 
extensively  developed. 

The  horse  is  a  highly  courageous  animal, 
but,  throughout  the  ages,  his  chief  defence 
against  danger  has  been  his  extreme  vigilance 
and  ability  to  escape  from  trouble,  instantly, 
and  at  great  speed.  The  nervousness  of 
highly-strung  horses  is  an  endowment  of  nature, 
which  in  past  times  has  preserved  their  remote 
ancestors  and  the  species ;  so  that  the  line 
to  be  taken  with  an  unbroken  adult  animal, 
full  of  every  kind  of  apprehension  of  harm 
from  man,  is  such  complete  disarmament  of 
suspicion,  that  it  is  never  given  the  opportunity 
to  develop  into  active  antagonism. 

The  younger  the  animal  is,  the  easier  and 
more  quickly  it  can  be  trained  into  confidence 
and  affection.  Remember  that  a  wholly 
unbroken  adult  is  much  less  amenable,  for  it 
has  an  already  acquired  stock  of  experience, 
on  which  it  acts,  if  scared,  with  unhesitating 
impulse.  It  was  promptness  of  decision  and 
action,  as  well  as  speed,  which  saved  its  remote 
ancestors  from  becoming  wolf  or  lion  meat. 
In  approaching  this  work  of  breaking  in,  it  is 
most  necessary  to  take  into  full  account  the 

15 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

instincts  working  in  the  horse's  mind ;  for 
there  is  only  one  way  to  perfect  success  in  the 
handhng  of  a  wild  and  nervous  unbroken,  fully- 
grown  horse  or  mare.  Wrongly  handled,  the 
animal  is  spoilt  for  life.  Rightly  handled, 
the  subjection  and  cure  of  its  nervousness  and 
wildness  can  be  made  quite  permanent. 

The  nature  of  the  horse,  as  unbroken,  is  to 
suspect  and  counter  every  act  of  a  man  ap- 
proaching it,  whom  it  regards  as  a  potential 
enemy.  If  there  are  a  number  of  men  direct- 
ing their  attention  to  him  and  they  run,  swing 
their  arms  about,  and  shout  when  approaching 
him,  any  doubt  upon  this  point  vanishes,  and 
the  horse  becomes  quite  certain  that  they  mean 
harm  to  him,  and  that  in  prompt  escape  lies  his 
only  safety.  Realise  that  this  means  destruction 
of  all  confidence  at  the  very  commencement  of 
your  entering  into  relations  with  him. 

An  advance  to  an  unbroken  horse  must 
always  be  oblique  and  indirect,  in  absolute 
silence,  dead  slow,  and  without  any  movement 
of  hands  and  arms.  Unless  the  ordinary 
groom  or  helper  is  drilled  into  this  dead  quiet 
and  dead  slow  procedure,  he  will  spoil  every- 
thing at  the  start.  The  quickest  way  of  getting 
on  to  good  terms  with  the  horse  is  to  do  every- 
thing so  quietly  and  dead  slow,  that,  not  only 
is  he  not  scared,  but  so  that  he  hardly  pays 
any  attention  to  what  you  are  doing. 


16 


BRINGING    THE    WILD    HORSE    UP 
FROM    PASTURE 


CHAPTER  II 

BRINGING  THE  WILD  HORSE  UP 
FROM  PASTURE 

THE  first  problem  is  to  get  the  un- 
handled  horse  from  the  field  to  the 
stable,  without  the  least  excitement.  Tie 
up  all  dogs.  If  he  is  very  wild  and  nervous, 
put  a  very  old  and  quiet  animal,  that  will  in 
no  circumstances  kick,  into  the  same  field  for 
several  days  to  make  friends  with  him.  When 
you  see  that  they  are  constantly  feeding  to- 
gether, shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  old  horse 
can  be  used  as  a  lead.  If  possible  avoid  taking 
the  unhandled  horse  by  road,  for  a  motor,  a 
load  of  straw,  or  a  flock  of  sheep  might  cause 
much  difficulty. 

But  perhaps  you  have  to  bring  up  the  wild 
horse  from  his  pasture  without  the  aid  of 
another  animal.  Then  adopt  this  procedure. 
Tie  up  all  dogs.  It  is  essential  that  he  should 
not  be  scared,  so  drill  your  helpers  beforehand 
into  the  prime  necessity  of  absolute  silence 
and  slow  movement.  It  is  best  that  the 
horse  should  be  in  a  field  adjoining  the  straw 

19 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

yard,  or  stable,  so  that  the  operation  should 
be  limited  to  the  actual  corraUng.  If  he  has 
to  be  taken  through  a  succession  of  fields  to 
the  last  next  the  straw  yard,  have  all  the  gates 
propped  open.  Take  your  men  by  a  round- 
about way  to  the  far  side  of  the  horse  without 
attracting  his  attention,  and  then,  in  extended 
order,  begin  your  drive,  which  must  be  executed 
in  dead  slow  time.  You  and  your  men  should 
not  walk  in  a  straight  line  to  the  horse,  but 
obhquely,  backwards  and  forwards.  By  and 
by  he  will  look  up  from  his  feeding  and  will 
move  away,  and  start  feeding  again  in  another 
place  nearer  the  gate.  As  the  men  come  on, 
he  will  move  further  away  still  nearer  the 
gate,  and  will  begin  to  reaUse  that  there  is 
pressure.  This  will  put  him  on  the  alert  for 
danger,  and  he  will  stop  feeding  to  watch 
events.  It  is  essential  that  he  should  be 
induced  to  move  away,  which  he  will  do 
quietly  if  he  is  not  excited.  The  oblique 
movement  of  the  men  wiU  make  him  beUeve 
that  they  are  not  after  him,  more  especially 
if  they  are  instructed  not  to  look  at  him,  but 
to  appear  as  if  they  were  interested  in  looking 
for  something  in  the  grass — half-crowns  per- 
haps. He  wont  Uke  their  presence  and  will 
continue  to  move  away,  and  in  course  of  time 
will  discover  the  open  gate  and  walk  through 
it. 

If  the  men  had  been  walking  direct  on  him, 

20 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

shouting  and  waving  their  arms,  his  whole 
attention  would  have  been  so  centred  on  them 
that  he  would  not  have  seen  the  open  gate 
behind  him,  and,  in  his  scared  condition,  he 
would  have  determined  instantly  that  the 
only  way  of  escape  was  to  bolt,  through  the 
widest  gap  in  the  advancing  line  of  enemies, 
into  the  more  open  space  beyond  them.  Con- 
vinced that  he  was  in  danger  of  his  life,  he 
would  continue  to  race  round  the  field,  and  it 
would  take  him  at  least  a  fortnight  to  get 
over  the  experience,  and  he  would  retain  the 
impression  that  all  men  were  his  enemies. 

But  the  silent  pressure,  slow  and  obhque 
advance,  leaves  no  such  impression  on  the 
mind  of  a  wild  unhandled  horse.  He  has  been 
inconvenienced,  but  that  is  all.  When  you 
have  got  him  into  the  next  field  the  day's  work 
is  done,  because  any  horse  put  into  a  new 
pasture  will  gallop  all  round  it  lq  excited 
exploration  before  he  quietens  down  to  feed. 
If  of  his  own  accord  he  goes  through  the  next 
gate,  well  and  good,  but  don't  try  to  force 
him.  Your  ultimate  object  is  the  speediest 
breaking  of  the  animal,  and  by  proceeding 
slowly  at  the  beginning  you  are  in  reahty 
making  the  quickest  advance.  You  want  to 
get  him  into  the  straw- yard,  or  stable,  with  the 
least  disturbance  to  his  equanimity.  If  he  is 
terrified  by  the  procedure,  you  will  find  him 
in  such  a  condition  of  antagonism  that  it  will 

c  21 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

take  many  days,  if  not  weeks,  to  overcome  his 
repulsion  to  a  man.  It  is  speaking,  of  course, 
of  a  wild  and  most  nervous  horse  that  has  never 
been  handled,  and  one  that  can  be  permanently 
spoilt  if  brute  force  is  used.  Such  a  one  can 
only  be  trained  to  lose  his  nervousness  and 
wildness  by  methods,  which  so  attract  him 
to  you  that  he  will  do  anything,  which  you  can 
make  him  understand  you  want  done,  from 
pure  affection  and  love  of  you.  He  will  have 
got  used  to  the  new  field  in  twenty-four  hours,  so 
use  the  same  method  to  get  him  into  the  next. 
He  was  not  scared  the  first  day,  and  on  the 
second  day  he  will  be  easy  to  manoeuvre  into 
the  next  field.  If  it  takes  a  week  to  get  him 
up  to  the  straw-yard  quite  unscared,  the  time 
will  have  been  well  spent. 


22 


THE    FIRST    HANDLING 


CHAPTER   III 
THE  FIRST  HANDLING 

THE  best  thing  is  to  get  him  with  the 
old  horse  into  a  straw-yard,  and  for  a 
day  leave  them  together  and  take  no  notice 
of  them,  except  to  bring  them  a  httle  hay, 
not  too  much,  because  you  want  both  to  be 
hungry  on  the  day  of  the  first  encounter. 
The  wild  animal  will  have  much  to  distract 
his  attention,  and,  if  left  quietly  alone,  will 
go  round  snorting  and  smelhng  everything. 
The  placid  demeanour  of  the  old  horse  will  do 
much  to  give  him  confidence  ;  and  in  twenty- 
four  hours  he  will  have  so  assimilated  the 
novelty  of  his  surroundings,  that  if  you  enter 
the  yard  he  will  be  prepared  to  attend  to  you 
and  nothing  else.  This  first  seance  with  the 
wild  horse  you  must  carry  out  by  yourself, 
and  no  one  must  be  allowed  to  approach  the 
yard.  His  attention  must  be  concentrated  on 
you  alone,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other 
excitement.  Tie  up  all  dogs.  Enter  with  as 
little  noise  as  possible  and  quite  slowly.  Bring 
an  armful  of  fresh  hay  with  you  ;   sit  down 

25 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

somewhere  in  the  open,  put  the  hay  in  front 
of  you,  and  await  developments. 

All  the  time  keep  perfectly  still  and  don't 
move  a  hand  or  a  muscle.  The  old  horse  will 
come  up  to  feed  and  the  wild  one  will  follow, 
but  will  keep  at  a  distance,  wistfully  eyeing 
the  hay,  but  not  daring  to  come  so  close  to 
you  as  to  reach  it.  Just  sit  there  quite  motion- 
less, without  making  the  least  sound  or  move- 
ment, and  you  will  have  a  most  amusing  time. 
With  many  snorts  and  strong  breathings  the 
wild  one  will  come  up,  hesitate  and  break 
away  over  and  over  again,  but  piqued  by  the 
munching  of  the  old  horse  and  the  smell  of 
the  hay  he  will  always  come  back.  His  object 
is  the  hay,  but  his  eye  is  on  you  all  the  while 
and  the  snorts  are  tests  of  the  situation.  Keep 
dead  still,  for  you  are  now  breaking  the  horse 
faster  than  you  know.  He  is  making  up  his 
mind  about  you,  and  you  can  tell  how  he  is  get- 
ting on  from  the  character  of  his  snorts.  He 
will  break  away  and  come  back  again  a  dozen 
times  or  more,  every  now  and  then  shortening  his 
distance  as  a  try  on.  All  his  attention  is  now 
on  you,  and  on  one  of  his  returns  try  the  effect 
upon  him  of  a  cheerful  chirrup,  not  too  loud 
to  scare.  Probably  he  will  jump  back  with  a 
snort,  but  if  he  likes  the  sound  of  it  he  wont 
be  long  away.  Placate  him  by  pushing  the 
hay,  on  one  of  his  absences,  so  that  he  finds 
it  a  little  nearer  to  him  on  his  return.     Have 

26 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

patience  and  play  this  game  to  the  end,  when,  if 
he  is  hungry,  he  will  the  quicker  snatch  his  first 
wisp  of  hay  and  make  off  with  it.  Wild  horse 
as  he  is,  you  have  estabhshed  confidential 
relations  with  him,  for  he  has  found  out  that, 
under  certain  circumstances,  you  are  not  much 
to  be  feared.  Keep  dead  quiet  and  he  will 
soon  be  back  for  another  wisp,  which  he  will 
again  carry  off  ;  and  so  on,  with  less  nervous- 
ness and  more  confidence  every  time,  until, 
still  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  you  all  the 
time,  he  concludes  that  it  is  not  necessary  to 
carry  it  off  and  starts  munching  in  earnest. 
Just  sit  there  and  talk  to  him.  After  a  while 
move  your  hands  and  arms,  just  a  Kttle,  and 
very  slowly.  He  will  have  his  eye  on  them  ; 
but,  at  the  very  first  quick  movement,  he  will 
be  off  in  panic,  and  all  the  snorting  business 
will  have  to  be  gone  through  again  ;  with  the 
added  difficulty  that  a  great  suspicion  has 
arisen  in  his  mind  that  you  are  not  altogether 
what  he  took  you  to  be.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  you  play  your  part  with  great  adroitness 
and  tact,  disarming  his  every  apprehension, 
you  may  be  rewarded  with  an  actual  nibble 
at  a  wisp  in  your  hand,  extended  so  slowly 
that  he  almost  thinks  it  grew  like  that.  The 
horse  is  a  beast  of  splendid  courage,  and 
remember  that,  in  this  first  great  interview, 
this  wild  thing,  in  any  advance  he  makes  to 
familiarity,  is  doing  violence  to  all  his  hereditary 

27 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

instincts  to  get  away.  If  you  get  him, 
with  a  snort,  to  smell  and  touch  your  hand, 
it  is  triumph  indeed.  The  presence  of  the 
old  horse  helps  matters  by  his  example  of 
confidence,  and  shortens  the  time  of  attraction  ; 
but,  with  patience  and  the  utmost  care,  the 
wild  horse,  even  if  alone,  can  eventually  be 
induced  to  come  up  to  you  and  give  you  that 
touch  on  the  fingers,  which  means  the  begin- 
ning of  his  friendship. 

After  the  first  touch  of  his  nose  on  your 
fmgers,  the  wild  horse  will  want  to  touch  them 
again.  Keep  your  hand  perfectly  still ;  and 
the  second  time  there  will  not  only  be  a  touch, 
but  a  smell  as  well.  It  is  his  way  of  taking 
stock  of  you,  and,  if  the  smell  is  satisfactory, 
you  are  a  made  man  as  far  as  he  is  concerned. 
If  you  are  sitting  or  l3ring  on  the  ground,  a 
horse  will  come  up  to  you  so  much  more  readily 
than  if  you  are  standing  up.  To  a  foal,  a  man 
lying  down  is  perfectly  irresistible.  Keep 
dead  quiet,  and  by  devious  ways  the  foal  will 
come  up,  and,  after  a  httle  hesitation,  you 
will  feel  somewhere  just  the  tip  of  a  wee  soft 
nose.  Then  somewhere  else  another  touch, 
and  another,  and  if  your  savour  is  good,  there 
follows  a  downright  good  smelling  all  over. 
Then  that  foal  is  yours  ;  and  you  can  do  any- 
thing you  hke  with  him,  provided  you  make 
no  sound  and  all  your  movements  are  dead 
slow.     So  with  the  wild  horse,  the  first  nervous 

28 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

siiiff  will  assuredly  be  followed  by  another  and 
no  doubt  a  snort.  The  great  art  is  to  keep 
most  perfectly  still.  The  next  touch  will  be 
a  little  bolder,  with  quite  a  good  smell  of  your 
hand.  After  two  or  three  smells,  very  slowly 
put  your  arm  down  by  your  side.  You  have 
got  a  friend  now,  and  the  friend's  nose  will  be 
stretched  out  hesitatingly,  as  one  who  does 
not  quite  know  how  the  polite  attention  will  be 
received,  just  to  touch  your  sleeve  about  the 
elbow.  Encourage  all  his  enquiries,  and  let  him 
smell  you  wherever  he  likes — ^he  won't  hurt  you. 

Then,  on  one  of  his  absences,  slowly  stand 
up.  This  is  a  new  phase  to  the  wild  horse,  at 
which  he  is  a  little  alarmed,  and  all  that  you 
did  sitting  down  will  have  to  be  done  over 
again.  It  is  curious  how  quickly  a  horse  gets 
confidence  if  all  goes  right,  so  the  repetition, 
standing,  wdll  take  much  less  time,  and  at  the 
end  you  will  find  yourself  able  to  take  little 
hberties  with  him,  such  as  stroking  his  nose  ; 
first,  with  a  wisp  of  hay,  which  he  will  try  to 
eat,  and  then,  with  your  fingers.  None  of 
this  time  is  being  wasted.  These  things  are 
not  trivialities.  You  are  awaking  in  the  horse 
an  interest  in  yourself  personally,  and  confi- 
dence that  all  these  strange  things  you  are 
doing  are  meant  friendly,  and  that  in  no  case 
will  he  be  hurt. 

Then  for  a  while  pay  him  no  attention  at  all. 
Put  a  headstall  on  the  old  horse,  tie  him  up 

29 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

so  that  he  cannot  move  away,  pat  him.  stroke 
him  and  handle  him  all  over  fore  and  aft. 
Give  him  some  hay  and  generally  make  a  great 
fuss  of  him.  The  wild  horse  will  move  ofi  a 
little  way  to  regard  this  new  thing.  He  will 
take  full  stock  of  it.  He  will  see  this  strange 
biped  taking  all  sorts  of  liberties  with  the  old 
horse,  and  that,  so  far  from  the  old  horse 
objecting  to  anjrthing  that  is  being  done  to 
him,  he  loves  it.  Stroke  the  old  horse's  face, 
his  eyes,  pull  his  ears,  scratch  him  under  the 
mane,  lift  his  legs,  go  all  round  him,  scratch 
his  back,  and,  when  you  have  done,  lean  your 
back  against  the  old  horse,  pick  up  a  piece 
of  hay,  face  the  wild  one,  and  hold  it  out  to 
him.  He  is  still  hungry,  and,  ten  to  one, 
after  a  little  hesitation,  he  will  come  up  to  you 
and  take  it.  When  it  is  done,  very  very  slowly 
stoop  down  and  pick  up  some  more,  and,  as 
slowly  rise  up.  As  you  stoop  down  the  wild 
horse  will  start  a  little  and  draw  back  ;  for 
this  is  another  strange  thing,  and  he  does  not 
know  what  to  make  of  it.  Wait  a  Uttle,  and 
hold  the  hay  out  again,  and  once  more  he  will 
come  up  hesitatingly  and  take  it. 

Repeat  this  quite  a  number  of  times  and  you 
will  see  the  confidence  of  the  wild  horse  grow 
every  time.  This  may  well  end  your  first 
lesson,  and,  as  you  go,  lead  the  old  horse  with 
you  up  to  the  gate  and  made  a  little  more  fuss 
with  him,   before  you  loose  him  and  go  out. 

30 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

This  also  will  give  the  wild  horse  something 
more  to  think  about.  Let  no  one  else  go  to 
the  straw-yard,  or  much  that  you  have  done 
will  be  undone. 

The  next  day,  tie  up  all  dogs,  and  do  the 
same  thing.     Tie  up  the  old  horse  and  sit  down 
with  the  hay  at  your  feet.     Hand  up  a  little 
to  the  old  nag  and  the  wild  one,  quite  hungry, 
will  not  be  long  before  he  comes  to  you  for 
some.       Go    through    the    same    programme, 
which  will  take  much  less  time,   but  do  not 
forget  to   make  all  your   movements  just  as 
slow.     Now  make  another  advance.     Bring  a 
flexible  cutting  whip  with  you,  and,  as  you  present 
the  hay  to  the  wild  horse,  hold  the  whip  in  the 
same  hand,  so  that  the  knob  is  masked  by, 
but  projects  just  a  little  beyond  the  hay.     He 
won't  take  any  notice  of  it,  and  will  go  for  the 
hay.        As  he  pulls  at  the  hay  let   the  knob 
end  just  touch  the  side  of  his  face.     He  may 
draw  back  a  little,  but  he  will  again  come  for 
the  hay,  so  let  it  touch  him  again.     He  will 
soon  get  used  to  it,  and  you  can  push  the  knob 
end  out  a  little  further,  to  touch  his  cheek. 
It  will  annoy  him  a  little  at  first,  but  he  will 
soon  get  used  to  it  and  won't  bother  so  long 
as  he  gets  the  hay.     Gradually  push  the  knob 
out  further  so  that  you  touch  him  gently  on 
the  side  of  the  neck.     He  doesn't  like  it  very 
much,   but  resigns  himself  to  the  annoyance 
on  account  of  the  hay,  and  in   a  little  while 

31 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you  will  be  able  to  rub  him  on  the  neck  quite 
hard.  Go  through  it  all  again  two  or  three 
times,  so  that  he  is  quite  used  to  seeing  the  whip 
and  being  rubbed  by  it  on  the  face,  cheek  and 
neck.  Do  it  on  the  other  side,  progressing 
just  as  gradually.  Now  take  the  hay  in  one 
hand  and  the  whip  in  the  other,  and,  slowly 
and  gently,  go  through  the  process  with  the 
whip  in  full  sight,  every  movement  being  dead 
slow.  Turn  the  whip  round  so  that  you  present 
the  flexible  end  to  him,  repeating  the  process, 
first  with  one  hand  and  then  with  the  other. 
By  this  time  he  will  have  ceased  to  make  any 
objection  to  being  rubbed  by  the  whip,  and  you 
can  gradually  extend  the  range  of  operations 
to  his  shoulders,  wither,  and  chest.  Then 
while  you  do  this  begin  to  talk  to  him  cheerily 
and  watch  his  eyes  and  the  play  of  his  ears. 
With  experience,  if  you  watch  both,  you  can 
almost  tell  what  a  horse  is  thinking  of. 

Next  day,  after  tieing  up  all  the  dogs,  in  a 
sort  of  House-that-Jack-Built  progression  go 
through  the  whole  thing  again,  from  the  very 
beginning.  The  horse's  strongest  point  is  his 
memory,  and  he  will  know  quite  well  what  is 
coming  and  will  raise  little  if  any  objection. 
In  fact,  by  this  time,  his  confidence  in  you 
will  have  so  increased  that  you  can  go  to 
work  more  boldly  with  the  whip-rubbing  part. 
He  will  have  got  to  like  it,  and,  by  holding 
the  hay  a  bit  back,  he  will  come  much  closer 

32 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

to  you  ;  so  that  you  can  rub  his  back  and 
flanks  with  the  whip  and  occasionally  touch 
his  neck  with  your  fingers.  The  finger  touches 
at  first  should  be  as  light  as  possible,  and 
infrequent.  It  is  a  great  concession  on  the 
part  of  the  wild  horse  to  allow  you  to  touch 
him  at  all,  and  you  must  give  him  time  to  think 
about  it  and  consider  whether  any  outrage  is 
intended,  or  not.  With  the  first  light  touches, 
he  won't  be  sure  whether  anything  was  in- 
tended or  not,  but,  as  they  go  on  without 
hurting  him  in  any  way,  he  will  conclude  that 
he  has  no  reason  to  object. 

Now  any  horse,  when  he  comes  up  from 
grass,  has  a  more  or  less  itchy  skin,  and  the 
skin  of  a  wild  horse,  who  has  always  from 
a  foal  been  in  the  open,  will  be  more  so.  From 
the  light  touches  proceed  to  Ught  rubs,  and 
watch  his  eyes  and  ears.  As  long  as  his  ears 
are  forward,  all  is  well.  Half-way  down  the 
neck  is  the  best  place  to  begin  to  rub  with 
more  pressure.  If  he  likes  it  he  will  keep  his 
ears  forward  ;  if  he  is  not  sure,  one  ear  will  be 
forward  and  the  other  a  bit  back  ;  if  he  doesn't 
like  it,  both  ears  will  be  momentarily  brought 
back,  with  just  a  gleam  of  white  in  the  eye. 
But  he  has  suffered  many  things  at  your  hands, 
which  at  first  he  hardly  approved  but  turned 
out  better  than  he  expected,  so  that,  even  on 
this  mighty  question  of  the  actual  touch  of  the 
biped,   he   is    inclined    to    risk    consent,    and 

33 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

eventually  does  do  so.  Imperceptibly  turn 
the  rubbing  into  the  gentlest  scratching.  It 
may  be  a  great  coup — the  greatest  coup.  If 
he  stops  eating  hay  to  rub  his  neck  against 
your  nails,  you  have  got  him  body  and  soul. 
You  have  only  got  to  extend  the  area  of  the 
operation  judiciously,  mch  by  inch,  across  the 
shoulders  keeping  weU  below  the  wither,  then 
upwards  to  the  middle  of  his  back,  to  have 
him  in  a  state  of  perfect  ecstasy.  He  wiU 
utterly  surrender  to  you,  forgetful  of  every 
other  consideration,  if  only  he  can  enjoy  that 
perfectly  entrancing  scratching  of  his  back. 
Begin  it  gently  with  the  one  hand,  and  as  he 
reaUses  that  this  particular  place  that  he  has  never 
been  able  to  get  at  himself,  is  actually  going 
to  be  scratched  for  him,  as  he  had  never 
dreamed  in  his  Hfe  to  get  it  titillated,  he  will 
bend  down  and  give  you  his  whole-souled 
co-operation  for  just  as  long  as  you  like  to  con- 
tinue the  contract.  Get  both  hands  on  to  the 
job,  and  the  harder  you  scratch  the  more 
he  will  love  it. 

The  back  scratch  has  an  extraordinary  effect 
upon  him.  He  will  turn  his  head  slowly  to 
one  side,  and  then  to  the  other.  He  wiU  draw 
down  his  head  and  his  neck  pulHng  them  back, 
with  all  the  muscles  taut,  until  he  looks  hke  a 
Greek  horse  on  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon. 
He  will  stretch  his  nose  out  and  curl  up  his 
lip,  as  though  he  were  trjdng  to  ape  an  ele- 

34 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

phant's  trunk.  He  will  waggle  his  ears  about 
and  close  his  eyes  ;  open  his  mouth,  and  stretch 
out  his  tongue ;  stand  on  one  leg,  and  then  on 
another  ;  stamp  with  them  ;  go  down  on  his 
knees  in  a  paroxysm  of  ecstasy,  get  up  again, 
and  even  he  down.  Stop,  even  for  a  moment, 
and  he  will  look  round  to  enquire  why  all  this 
joy  has  come  to  an  end  ;  will  jog  you  with  his 
nose,  and  present  his  back  for  renewed  attention. 

Then  with  one  hand,  still  titillating  his 
back,  with  the  other  scratch  his  mane,  the 
whole  of  his  neck,  his  chest,  his  flanks,  his 
girth,  and  especially  his  forelegs  as  far  as  you 
can  reach,  lifting  them  at  the  knee  if  he  will 
allow  you.  He  will  want  you  to  do  it  all 
again,  and  this  time,  facing  his  shoulder,  get 
your  hands  on  either  side  of  his  neck,  scratch 
it  all  over ;  then  get  to  his  shoulders  and  up  to 
the  wither.  Then  press  your  weight  against 
his  chest  and  shoulders,  as  your  hands  pass 
over  the  wither  on  to  his  back.  He  won't 
object,  and  will  most  probably  return  the 
pressure  to  help  you  to  get  your  fingers  further 
along  his  back. 

Walk  slowly  away  and  he  will  come  after 
you.  Let  him  come  up  to  you,  and  scratch 
him  a  httle  again,  and  go  on.  He  will  follow 
you,  so  stop  and  give  him  some  more.  Bring 
him  right  up  to  the  gate,  give  him  a  last  scratch 
on  the  back  and  vanish.  There  will  be  a  wild 
horse  with  his  head  over  the  gate,  looking  to 

35 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

see  where  that   perfectly    beautiful   man   has 
gone. 

It  is  enough  to  know  the  scheme  and  princi- 
ples of  this  first  handling.  It  can  be  varied, 
in  respect  of  its  details,  to  suit  the  peculiarities 
of  every  kind  of  horse.  It  is  applicable  to 
every  horse  of  every  age — staUions,  geldings, 
mares,  foals  and  fiiUies.  The  younger  they 
are,  the  more  quickly  they  respond  to  its 
influence.  Its  great  merit  is  that  the  animal 
is  at  full  liberty,  and  under  no  kind  of  con- 
straint. 

The  horse  responds  because  he  wants  to 
respond.  There  is  no  coercion.  The  most 
savage  stallion,  brutalised  and  terrorised  by 
the  most  ignorant  of  grooms,  whose  only 
method  of  handling  him  has  been  with  a 
pitchfork,  will  respond  to  it  in  time,  as  soon  as 
he  learns  that  you  are  of  a  different  order  to 
the  cruel  beast  who  has  had  charge  of  him. 
Confidence  comes  first,  and  affection  foUows. 

Of  all  the  animals  on  earth  none  has  been 
created  of  such  nobihty  of  character,  not  even 
man,  for  there  is  nothing  mean  about  the 
horse — and  there  are  many  mean  men.  Watch 
the  poorest  of  half-starved  beasts  in  the  London 
streets,  ribs  showing  through  scars  ;  look  at  the 
expression  of  his  eyes  and  the  curves  of  his 
mouth  as  he  struggles  with  a  load  infinitely 

36 


Rohan    and    Romford,    1906 
Father  on  Father,  and    Son  on    Son 


Playmates    in    the    Paddock,   1906 


[To  face  page  36 


Playing     at    "Wild    Injuns,"   1906 


Betty   on    Kitty   VIM.         Iris    on    Rohan,    1906 


[To  face  page  37 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

too  heavy  for  him  ;  think  of  the  bodily  weakness 
braced  up  in  that  poor  small  body  by  a  most 
magnificent  courage  ;  striving  to  pull  and  to 
keep  on  pulhng — till  he  falls.  The  curves  and 
play  of  the  muscles  of  the  mouth  of  a  horse, 
pulling  his  best,  tell  of  the  courage  and  great 
soul  that  is  in  him.  Wounded,  in  pain,  suffer- 
ing hunger  and  thirst,  waiting  for  the  end, 
there  can  be  no  more  pathetic  picture  of  hard- 
ships borne  unflinchingly  with  patience  and 
perfect  dignity.  All  horses  are  fit  for  heaven  ; 
but  only  a  few  men. 

Few  can  get  close  enough  to  the  mind  and 
soul  of  a  horse  to  appreciate  to  the  full  how 
noble  and  beautiful  is  his  character.  To 
possess  the  whole-souled  affection  and  love  of 
a  horse,  and  many  are  capable  of  the  greatest 
affection,  is  an  exquisitely  perfect  experience. 
To  have  the  power  of  attracting  such  affection, 
and  to  know  how  to  reciprocate  it,  is  privilege 
and  pleasure  beyond  all  price. 


87 


THE    SECOND    HANDLING 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  SECOND  HANDLING 

THE  scheme  of  the  first  handling  has 
been  the  voluntary  attraction  of  the 
horse,  when  at  full  liberty,  to  the  trainer. 
At  its  end  the  old  horse  can  be  removed  from 
the  straw-yard.  There  is  no  longer  any  advan- 
tage in  his  presence;  as  the  wild  horse,  who 
to  you  is  no  longer  wild,  has  now  no  fear  of  you 
and  will  welcome  your  coming.  He  will  of  his 
own  accord  come  right  up  to  you  at  the  gate, 
and,  in  a  day  or  two,  will  salute  your  arrival 
with  a  delighted  neigh. 

The  scheme  of  the  second  handling  is  the 
very  gradual  coercion  of  the  horse,  until  you 
have  full  control  of  his  movements.  Like  the 
first  handhng,  it  must  be  done  so  slowly  and 
gradually  that  he  does  not  reahse  that  he  is 
being  coerced  or  controlled.  You  must  so 
manoeuvre  things  that  he  does  voluntarily 
what  you  want  him  to  do.  When  a  horse 
gets  really  fond  of  you  it  is  a  pleasure  to  him 
to  do  for  you  whatever  you  can  make  him 
understand  you  want  him  to  do.     Some  horses 

41 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

— Arabs  for  instance — ^have  much  greater  in- 
telligence than  others,  and  can  grasp  quicker 
what  you  want  done  ;  but  in  every  case,  in 
order  that  you  should  the  more  clearly  convey 
to  the  wiUing  mind  of  the  horse  what  you  want 
him  to  do,  the  steps  of  advance  should  always 
be  very  small.  It  is  the  splendid  memory  of 
the  horse  which  is  your  greatest  help  in  train- 
ing him,  for  he  will  never  forget  anything  you 
teach  him.  He  will  remember  all  the  little 
steps  of  advance  of  a  most  complex  course, 
up  to  the  apex  of  some  really  wonderful  circus 
achievement.  Once  the  horse  really  loves  you, 
he  wiU  do  for  you  wiUingly,  and  take  a  pride 
in  doing  it,  no  matter  how  difficult,  anything 
of  which  he  is  anatomically  capable.  That 
is  the  sole  Umitation.  Provided  you  can  plot 
out  a  scheme  in  httle  steps,  going  continuously 
right  up  to  the  most  sensational  spectacle 
that  could  possibly  be  thought  out  for  him, 
he  will  do  it,  if  anatomically  he  is  capable  of 
doing  it. 

He  will  do  all  this  out  of  pure  love  of  you, 
but  it  is  a  great  help  and  saving  of  time  if  you 
can  give  him  a  Httle  reward  for  his  efforts  to 
please  ;  and  he  will  love  you  all  the  more  and 
attend  to  you  all  the  more  intelHgently  if  you 
do  so.  Keep  an  old  coat  with  a  sugar  pocket 
in  it,  and  don't  be  afraid  to  put  your  hand  in 
it.  Talk  to  him  exactly  as  if  you  were  trying 
to  teach  a  young  child.     You  will  be  astonished, 

42 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

if  you  constantly  use  the  same  words  for  the 
same  action,  how  quickly  he  will  understand 
what  you  say  to  him.  Keep  a  cheery  voice  for 
him  all  the  time,  for  he  will  love  your  voice 
and  attend  to  it  right  promptly.  Watch  his 
ears  ;  the  play  he  makes  with  them,  when  he 
is  trying  to  understand  you,  is  a  treat  to  see. 
It  is  the  inflections  of  your  voice  which  he 
follows  the  most  readily.  A  rough  word 
spoken  to  him  will  send  up  his  heart  beats 
twenty  a  minute.  Don't  do  it.  At  the  most 
use  a  tone  of  surprise  or  remonstrance.  It  is 
quite  enough. 

The  above  is  by  way  of  preliminary.  The 
old  horse  has  gone,  and  you  have  your  disciple 
to  yourself  for  the  first  time.  Tie  up  all  dogs, 
then  go  through  all  the  previous  performances 
again  right  up  to  the  scratching,  to  which  he 
will  surrender  himself  still  more  freely.  Stand 
at  his  shoulder  and  scratch  gradually  along 
his  mane  up  to  his  ears.  Try  to  scratch  be- 
tween them  and  down  to  his  forelock.  He 
may  not  like  it  at  first,  but  persevere.  Go  up 
again  to  the  forelock  and  scratch  very  gently 
at  the  root  of  the  ears.  First  time,  he  will 
shake  his  head  and  move  away.  This  was 
just  a  bit  too  much.  Don't  move  after  him, 
but  stand  where  you  were.  He  wiU  come  back 
to  you.  Keep  steady  and  do  nothing.  This 
is  disappointing.  He  will  shake  his  head  once 
or  twice,  and  out  will  come  that  soft  nose  for  a 

43 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

smell.  Still  do  nothing.  This  is  strange,  and 
the  nose  will  be  rubbed  against  you  to  wake 
you  up.  Wake  up,  step  to  the  shoulder,  and 
do  a  httle  pacifying  back  scratching,  carry  it 
along  the  neck  and  up  to  the  forelock  and  ear 
again.  You  have  got  to  have  that  ear  and 
both  of  them.  Persevere,  you  will  get  them  both. 

Use  judgment  in  these  matters.  Don't  risk 
real  annoyance.  Go  back  to  something  else. 
You  will  get  your  way  in  time,  and  the  sooner 
for  not  worrying  him.  Don't  let  any  seance 
be  too  long.  Walk  away  from  the  horse  and 
sit  down.  He  will  go  and  munch  a  bit  of  hay. 
Leave  him  to  it  for  a  while.  Don't  let  there 
be  too  much  hay,  and  when  he  has  finished  it 
he  will  move  about  and  eventually  come  up 
for  some  more  conversation  with  you. 

Have  a  little  surprise  for  him.  Although 
he  has  been  a  wild  horse  at  grass  all  his  life, 
he  has  had  a  bit  of  chop  with  oats,  brought 
to  the  field  manger  in  winter  time,  and  knows 
what  oats  are.  Have  a  few  in  a  basket.  My 
hat,  he  says,  this  fellow  who  scratches  my 
back  actually  has  OATS  !  You  will  rise  in  his 
estimation  one  thousandfold  on  the  spot. 

So  you  are  a  Scratcher  and  Master  of  Oats  ! 
And,  from  such  a  man,  much  can  be  endured. 
You  haven't  got  to  the  sugar  stage  yet,  so  for 
a  while  keep  oats  in  the  sugar  pocket.  Scratch 
the  back  ;  go  down  to  the  chest ;  go  on  to  the 
forearm ;    scratch   the   knee,    rub   the   cannon 

41 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

bone  ;  go  down  to  the  pastern.  First  two  or 
three  times  when  you  get  to  the  pastern,  he 
will  lift  up  his  foot  and  make  a  sweep  in  the 
air.  It  will  amuse  him,  and,  when  you  get 
to  the  knee  next  time,  he  will  make  a  sweep  at 
once.  Put  your  hand  in  your  pocket  and 
bring  some  oats  out.  He  will  go  for  them 
a  Uttle  roughly,  waste  most,  but  will  get  some 
and  vote  you  a  very  decent  fellow ;  so  that, 
when  you  go  for  the  knee  again  and  he  lifts 
it  up,  he  will  allow  you  to  hold  it  up  and  shake 
it.  He  will  respond  with  the  sweep,  so  slip 
your  hand  down  to  the  pastern  and  hold  his 
leg  out  as  straight  as  you  can.  Do  it  two  or 
three  times,  and  he  will  be  quite  interested 
in  the  new  game  and  let  you  do  it  freely.  Next 
time,  run  the  left  hand  down  to  the  pastern, 
and,  when  you  lift  the  near  leg  up,  rest  it  on 
your  own  knee,  and,  with  the  right  hand, 
scratch  his  knee  and  the  forearm,  topside  and 
bottom,  and  inside  and  outside.  He  will  Uke 
it,  and  in  a  little  time  you  can  take  liberties 
with  his  leg,  bending  his  knee  and  bringing  the 
foot  up  to  the  elbow,  and  shaking  it  there. 
Besides  his  neck  and  ears,  you  are  now  master 
of  his  near  fore  leg ;  and,  if,  each  time  you 
play  this  game,  it  ends  with  half  a  mouthful 
of  oats,  he  is  ready  to  take  his  part  in  it  just  as 
often  as  you  like. 

The  leg  lifting  game  is,   however,   but  the 
preliminary    to    by    far    the    most    important 

45 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

adventure  in  the  training  course  you  are  carry- 
ing out.  You  have  grown  to  be  his  delightful 
companion  and  playfellow,  and  he  is  not  a  bit 
afraid  of  you  ;  but  you  are  going  to  demonstrate 
to  him  (by  illusion)  that  you  are  by  far  the 
stronger  animal  physically,  and  that,  although 
you  are  so  strong  that  you  have  been  able  to 
down  him  with  ease,  you  have  not  hurt 
him  the  least  bit,  and,  so  far  from  doing 
so,  have  petted  and  comforted  him  in  the  mis- 
fortune which  has  so  surprisingly  overtaken  him. 


16 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

In  preparation  for  this  exploit  you  have 
provided  yourself  with  the  strap  of  the  dimen- 
sions shown  in  Fig.  1  of  this  sketch. 

In  Fig.  2  its  appUcation  is  shown  to  the  near 
foreleg,  which  it  tightly  holds  up,  so  that  the 
horse  is  on  three  legs.  Nothing  that  he  can 
do  can  displace  it.  To  use  it,  have  the  buckle 
outside  ;  sHp  the  tail  piece  through  the  legs  ; 
bring  it  round  the  near  pastern  ;  pass  it  through 
the  ring,  and  tighten  on  the  pastern,  holding 
the  tailpiece  in  the  left  hand.  Lift  the  foot 
up  to  the  elbow  with  the  right  hand,  at  the 
same  time  puUing  the  strap  up  taut  with  the 
left  hand  on  the  inside  of  the  forearm.  Throw 
the  tail  piece  over  the  top  of  the  forearm  as  near 
the  chest  as  possible,  the  foot  being  kept  up  by 
the  pull  on  the  strap,  and  with  the  right  hand 
pass  the  strap  through  the  buckle  and  tighten 
up  to  the  nearest  hole.  It  must  be  fairly 
tight  when  the  foot  is  released.* 


*In  an  enclosure  where  no  harm  can  befall  him,  it  is  much 
better  that  the  horse  should  be  thrown,  or  rather  throw  him- 
self, as  described  here,  with  a  single  legstrap  on  the  near  fore- 
leg. The  psychological  effect  upon  the  unbroken  horse  is 
better  ;  but  when  it  is  desired  to  throw  a  broken  horse  in  the 
open  field  with  bridle  or  training  halter  upon  him,  then,  after 
strapping  up  the  near  foreleg  to  put  him  on  three  legs,  pass 
the  buckle  end  of  a  long  strap  over  the  pastern  of  the  off 
foreleg,  draw  it  tight,  so  that  it  cannot  slip  off  the  pastern, 
and  pass  it  over  the  horse's  back,  so  that  you  hold  it  in  your 
right  hand  while  you  hold  the  bridle  in  your  left,  facing  the 
horse's  shoulder.  If  you  are  young  and  active,  you  can 
bring  the  biggest  horse  down  in  about  twenty  minutes,  leaving 

47 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Try  slipping  the  legstrap  on  the  old  horse 
first,  not  on  the  disciple.  There  is  a  knack  in 
putting  it  on,  and,  with  practice,  it  can  be  done 
so  swiftly  that  the  horse  has  no  time  to  resist. 

Pat  him  and  stand  aside.  He  won't  know 
at  all  what  to  make  of  it.  He  will  probably 
put  his  nose  down  and  touch  his  knee,  to  try 
and  understand  what  has  happened.  Then  he 
will  throw  his  head  up,  and  strike  out  with 
the  bound  foreleg,  a  dozen  times.  No  good. 
He  will  make  a  step  forward  with  the  free  fore- 


the  impression  upon  him  that,  as  an  animal,  you  are  physic- 
ally so  much  stronger  than  he  is  that  it  is  useless  for  him  to 
resist  you.  The  good  impression  is  formed  b/  the  massage 
and  petting  which  you  give  him  when  he  is  lying  exhausted 
and  helpless  on  the  ground.  The  action  is  commenced  by  a 
rearward  pull  on  the  bridle,  which  will  cause  the  horse  to 
lift  the  oflE  fore  foot  from  the  ground.  At  that  instant  you 
pull  up  the  strap  fastened  on  the  pastern  on  the  off  foreleg 
and  hold  it  tightly  in  your  right  hand,  so  that  he  cannot 
straighten  the  off  foreleg.  He  then  comes  down  on  both 
knees  (on  which  you  have  put  knee-caps)  and  the  fight  begins. 
He  wlU  rear  and  come  down  again  on  his  knees,  and  will  con- 
tinue this  until,  steaming  with  perspiration,  he  becomes  so 
completely  exhausted  that  he  can  rear  no  more  ;  and  you 
pull  him  over  on  his  side.  Then  carry  on,  as  related  in  this 
chapter.  This  handling  of  a  horse  and  the  subsequent  pet- 
ting has  the  very  remarkable  effect,  upon  even  the  most  vicious 
horse,  of  imbuing  him  with  a  strong  personal  affection  for 
youi'self,  and  when  you  allow  him  to  get  up,  he  will  not  leave 
you,  but  will  follow  you  anywhere,  just  like  a  dog.  Although 
the  author  has  thrown  many  hundreds  of  horses  in  this 
manner,  and  the  fights  put  up  by  some  have  been  phenomenal, 
he  has  never  known  a  horse  to  be  strained  or  receive  any  other 
injury,  nor  has  he  injured  himself.  Begin  with  a  small  pony, 
who  will  most  efficiently  teach  you  all  the  points  of  the  game. 

48 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

leg,  and  again  strike  out  with  the  bound  leg. 
Still  no  good.  He  will  snort  and  get  a  bit 
excited  and  hop  forward  haK  a  dozen  times, 
stop,  and  strike  out  with  the  bound  leg  for  all 
he  is  worth.  Still  no  good.  He  may  rear 
four  or  five  times  and  swing  round  on  his  hind 
legs,  come  down  and  strike  out  again.  He 
will  begin  to  sweat  and  steam,  and  the  more 
he  rears  and  strikes  out  the  better,  for  he  is  fat 
and  is  taking  it  out  of  himself.  Keep  quite 
still  and  don't  move  about.  All  the  while 
he  will  keep  an  eye  on  you,  connecting  you  in 
some  way  with  his  predicament,  not  resentfully, 
but  not  understanding  how  you  have  put  this 
spell  upon  him.  Up  he  will  rear  again  and 
swing  away  from  you,  then  hop  half  way 
round  the  yard,  the  heavy  going  helping  to 
take  more  out  of  him.  He  mil  come  to  a 
stand,  draw  himself  up  and  look  at  you.  About 
now  begin  to  speak  to  him  with  a  tone  in  your 
voice  of  commiseration.  Move  a  step  or  two 
towards  him,  speaking  very  kindly.  Quite 
likely  he  will  come  up  to  you  and  rub  his  head 
against  your  shoulder.  Pat  him,  for  he  is  in 
trouble,  and  he  wall  appreciate  your  sympathy. 
Then  move  back  again.  He  will  shake  the 
bound  leg  again  and  bite  perhaps  at  the  upheld 
knee,  for  the  unbalanced  weight  is  tiring  the 
muscles  of  his  chest  and  shoulders.  Once 
more  he  will  brace  himself  up  to  the  effort  of 
fighting  his  bonds,  striking  out  with  perhaps 

49 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

more  energy  than  before.  By  this  time  he 
will  be  drenched  with  sweat  and  steaming  in 
clouds,  while  here  and  there  on  his  body  are 
flecks  of  white  foam.  He  is  getting  deadly 
tired,  and  the  pains  of  fatigue  in  his  muscles 
are  increasing.  As  he  hops  round  the  yard 
there  is  a  tendency,  now  and  then,  to  drop  the 
bound  leg,  so  you  may  be  sure  it  won't  be  long 
before  he  gives  in.  Keep  on  talking  to  him, 
and  follow  him  round  on  the  inside  of  his 
circle  just  a  yard  or  two  away,  and  stop  when 
he  stops.  He  will  turn  his  head  round  and 
look  at  you.  Give  him  a  gentle  rub  on  the 
nose  and  a  pat  or  two  on  the  neck,  and,  in 
response,  he  will  give  a  feeble  wag  or  two  of  the 
leg.  Now  incite  him  to  go  on,  and,  if  he 
hesitates,  give  him  a  Uttle  tap  behind  with  the 
whip.  He  won't  go  far.  Pat  him  on  the  neck 
and  start  him  again  with  quite  a  gentle  tap. 
He  may  make  a  last  attempt  to  rear,  but  it 
wiU  be  too  much  for  him,  and,  when  he  comes 
down,  he  will  do  so  on  both  knees,  and  with 
his  nose  on  the  ground  to  help  to  steady  him. 
There,  quite  likely,  he  may  stop  for  a  quarter 
of  a  minute  or  longer.  Talk  to  him,  but  don't 
go  too  near  him,  as  the  relief  from  the  strain 
on  his  muscles  may  encourage  him  to  get  up 
again,  and,  if  so,  he  will  almost  certainly  swing 
round  and  attempt  another  high  rear.  But 
it  will  be  his  last  effort,  and  when  he  comes 
down  it  will  be  on  his  knees,  and  he  will  roll 

50 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

right  over  on  his  side,  in  a  state  of  entire  ex- 
haustion and  collapse,  and  covered  with  foam. 
He  will  shut  his  eyes  and  lie  motionless,  Hke  a 
dead  thing. 

The  fight  may  last  from  half  an  hour  to  an 
hour,  according  to  the  condition  and  dis- 
position of  the  horse.  The  more  the  horse 
fights  and  wearies  himself,  the  quicker  it  will 
be  over ;  and  the  more  good  it  will  do  to  him, 
for  the  effect  will  be  the  more  decisive.  Nearly 
all  horses  fight  well,  and  sometimes  you  will 
get  a  magnificent  display  from  a  hero  who 
won't  give  in.  Somewhat  rarely,  you  will 
come  across  an  equine  Conscientious  Objector 
who  ^^dll  show  very  little  fight,  and  will  be 
content  to  hop  about  on  three  legs  for  quite  a 
long  time,  and  even  occupy  himself  in  looking 
out  for  wisps  of  hay,  but  they  all  do  he  down 
sooner  or  later  and  become  amenable  to  the 
treatment  now  to  be  described.  No  instances 
are  known  of  horses  injuring  themselves  in  this 
form  of  subjugation.  The  horse  is  not  fright- 
ened at  any  time  from  start  to  finish,  for  he  is 
free  to  do  what  he  likes.  It  is  not  at  all  the 
same  thing  as  throwing  a  horse  forcibly,  with 
half  a  dozen  men  strugghng  with  ropes  and 
shouting  around  him,  to  his  mortal  terror. 
In  the  system  set  out  in  these  notes,  brutality 
and  terrorising  is  ruled  out  of  court — 
absolutely.  It  is  not  only  morally  wrong  to 
terrorise  an  animal  so  highly  organised  as  the 

51 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

horse,  but  it  is  an  act  of  sheer  idiotcy,  if  the 
ruffian,  who  perpetrates  it,  desires  the  horse 
afterwards  to  become  his  wilhng  servant. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that,  although 
the  horse  undoubtedly  always  connects  you 
with  his  fight  and  believes  that  it  is  your  power 
and  strength  which  vanquishes  him,  he  never 
shows  the  shghtest  trace  of  resentment,  and 
will  always  freely  offer  his  leg  to  be  strapped 
up  on  the  subsequent  occasions.  He  is  a 
generous-hearted  beast. 

When  you  have  the  horse  lying  down  so 
exhausted  that  he  is  lost  to  the  world,  then 
arrives  your  great  opportunity.  Approach 
him  so  that  he  can  see  you  when  you  speak  to 
him.  Kneel  down  slowly  at  his  head,  and  say 
to  him  all  the  kind  and  endearing  things  you 
can  think  of.  Rub  his  forehead  and  pass  the 
flat  of  your  hand  over  his  eyes,  rub  his  nose, 
his  cheeks,  and,  if  you  have  had  previously 
any  difficulty  with  them,  especially  his  ears. 
Open  his  lips  and  play  with  them.  Put  your 
hand  through  the  bars  of  his  mouth  and  touch 
and  handle  his  tongue.  Nothing  whatever 
that  you  do  to  him  will  he  resent.  Massage 
his  head  all  over,  talking  to  him  all  the  while, 
and  when  you  have  finished  with  his  head  rise 
up  very  slowly  and  pass  round  to  his  back, 
kneeling  down  again  behind  his  mane.  From 
this  new  position  massage  his  head  once  more, 
still    talking    to    him.     Then    take    the    neck, 

52 


c     ^ 


E  <D 


OH 


St 


HOW    TO    HANDLE    A   FOAL 


1.     Lifting    him    to    his    hind    legs 


2.     Teaching    him    confidence 


3.     A   lump    of  sugar   as    reward 


[To  face  page  53 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

massaging  it  all  along  from  the  head  to  the 
shoulder,  continuing  your  conversation  at 
intervals.  Move  now  to  the  wither  and  massage 
that,  then  all  along  and  around  his  body, 
beginning  at  his  spine  and  gradually  working 
over  his  flanks  to  his  stomach.  Every  now 
and  then  go  back  to  his  head,  and  run  your 
hands  over  his  ears,  eyes,  and  nose,  with  a 
few  more  words.  Work  lightly  along  the  neck 
and  back  to  where  you  left  off  before.  Pat 
him  all  along,  and  increase  the  strength  of  the 
pats  until  they  are  almost  spanks.  There  is 
not  a  single  square  inch  of  his  body  that  you 
must  leave  untouched.  Pass  your  hands 
between  his  forelegs  along  his  stomach  to  his 
sheath  and  between  his  thighs.  Massage  his 
rump  and  his  tail.  Move  it  about  and  handle 
it  well.  Go  back  and  handle  his  gullet  and 
throat.  You  will  find  he  is  still  keeping  his 
eyes  shut,  in  supreme  enjoyment  of  what  you 
are  doing  to  him.  He  has  experienced  the 
weight  of  your  body,  when  you  were  leaning 
over  to  massage  his  chest  and  stomach.  Leave 
off  work  for  a  bit  and  very  gently  sit  on  his 
shoulder,  keeping  your  hands  playing  about 
his  neck  and  mane,  and  speaking  to  him. 
Get  up  and  go  round  his  head  once  more,  play- 
ing with  his  face,  run  do^vn  the  neck  to  the 
shoulders  and  chest ;  and  now  begin  to  handle 
his  forelegs,  rubbing  them  up  and  down,  pinch- 
ing the  tendons,  and  finishing  with  his  feet. 

E  53 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Leave  the  strap  on  the  near  foreleg  alone. 
When  the  forelegs  are  finished  go  behind  him 
again  to  his  rump,  and  work  along  his  buttocks, 
stifles,  and  thighs,  inside  and  out,  and  down 
to  his  hocks,  legs  and  feet.  The  whole  process 
takes  from  twenty  to  twenty- five  minutes. 

Go  back  and  sit  on  his  shoulder,  watch 
events,  and  give  him  an  occasional  pat.  He 
will  have  opened  his  eyes  when  you  sat  down 
on  him  and  closed  them  again.  Keep  quiet, 
and  he  will  gradually  realise  that  the  massage 
performance  is  over,  and  with  it  his  great 
fatigue  has  passed  away.  But  he  is  feeling 
so  comfortable,  and  he  likes  your  little  at- 
tentions so  much,  that  he  is  not  especially 
keen  to  get  up.  When  he  is  nearly  ready,  he 
will  open  his  eyes  wide  and  perhaps  shift  his 
head  a  httle  to  try  and  get  a  squint  at  you. 
Get  up  slowly,  keeping  a  hand  on  his  withers, 
and  he  will  probably  roll  up  on  to  a  level  keel. 
Move  a  step  forward,  talk  to  him  and  play  with 
his  mane  and  neck,  and  he  will  probably  be 
content  to  remain  like  that  for  a  minute  or 
two  before  attempting  to  rise. 

The  near  leg  is  still  strapped  up,  and,  as 
soon  as  he  puts  out  the  off  fore  in  the  attempt 
to  get  up,  stand  aside  and  let  him  do  so.  Now 
he  will  do  one  of  two  things  ;  and  you  can 
never  be  quite  sure  which.  He  will  either 
make  three  of  four  attempts  to  get  up,  and, 
finding  his  near  leg  still  bound,  will  give  it  up 

54 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  throw  himself  on  his  side  again,  or  he  will 
succeed  in  getting  up  and,  feeUng  refreshed, 
will  have  a  bit  more  fight.  But  the  second 
fight  won't  last  long,  and,  remembering  how 
pleasant  it  was  when  he  was  down,  he  soon 
subsides. 

In  either  case,  do  a  bit  of  massage  again 
especially  of  the  head  and  ears,  which  will 
please  him,  and  take  this  opportunity  to 
halter  him,  which  you  can  easily  do,  for,  by 
bunching  the  halter  and  rubbing  his  head 
and  ears  with  it  to  get  him  accustomed  to  its 
feel  and  smell,  he  will  think  it  is  part  of  the 
massage  process.  Keep  on  rubbing  his  face 
while  you  slip  it  on,  and  he  won't  know  any- 
thing about  it. 

Encourage  the  horse  to  get  on  a  level  keel 
again  and  sit  on  his  back,  and,  while  there, 
get  a  little  tension  on  the  halter  rope,  which 
should  He  on  the  off  side  of  his  neck.  Now 
for  the  oats  again  !  Lean  over  as  you  sit  and 
give  him  a  smell  of  the  oats  with  your  right 
hand,  and  pull  on  the  halter  rope  with  the 
left.  Ordinarily  he  might  resist  the  pull ;  but 
the  smell  of  the  oats  brings  his  head  round 
sharp,  and  you  must  hold  him  with  bent  neck, 
with  the  left  hand,  while  he  eats  them  out  of 
your  right  hand,  and  asks  for  more.  Give  him 
some  more,  keeping  his  neck  well  bent  with 
the  halter.  After  he  has  finished  the  oats, 
move  back  from  him  and,  using  both  hands, 

55 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

pull  hard,  but  not  jerkUy,  on  the  halter.  With 
his  bent  neck  you  have  an  enormous  leverage 
on  him,  and,  even  if  he  is  the  biggest  Shire 
Stallion  in  Great  Britain,  he  has  got  to  roll 
over  on  his  side  again.  Do  this  several  times. 
Get  him  up  on  to  the  level  keel,  sit  on  his 
back  and  play  with  him  a  bit,  and  then  with  a 
strong  pull  bring  him  down  on  his  side  again. 
The  oftener  you  repeat  this,  the  more  the 
horse  wiU  reaUse  his  utter  inability  to  resist. 
From  the  first  he  has  had  a  dim  idea  that  it 
was  you  who  were  holding  his  leg  up  so  that  he 
could  not  get  it  free,  and,  now  that  you  pull 
him  over  hke  this,  no  further  evidence  is 
necessary,  and  he  is  quite  certain  of  it.  He 
is  convinced  that  you  are  an  animal  so  enor- 
mously stronger  than  he  is,  that  it  is  quite  hope- 
less to  attempt  to  resist  you  ;  and  besides,  why 
should  he  resist  you,  when  you  have  proved 
so  conclusively  to  him  that,  no  matter  what 
strange  things  you  do  to  him,  he  will  not  only 
not  he  hurt,  but  wiU  derive  great  pleasure 
from  aU  your  various  handlings  ? 

You    have    now    estabhshed    the    following 
position  in  your  horse's  mind  : — 

(a.)  You    are    an    amusing    and    dehghtful 

companion,  whom  it  is  a  pleasure  to 

be  with. 
(6.)  You  know  about  and  produce  hay,  when 

he    is    hungry  ;    water,    when    he    is 

thirsty ;    but,    above   everything  else, 

56 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you  smell  of  OATS,  carry  OATS,  and 

actually  give  OATS  with  your  hand  ! 

(c.)  You   are   enormously   stronger  than   he 

is.     Nevertheless  not  only  do  you  not 

hurt  him,  but  you  give  him  all  sorts 

of    strange    pleasures    he    has    never 

known  before. 

{d.)  It   is   safe    and   pleasant   to   trust    any 

part  of  his  body  to  be  handled  by  you. 

(e.)  It  is  safe,  and  not  unpleasant,  to  allow 

you  to  lean,  lie  and  sit  upon  his  body. 
(/.)  Wlien   a   strange   puU   from   you   comes 
upon  the  head,  it  has  to  be  obeyed 
and  followed  because  it  must.     Any- 
way, why  any  resistance,  when  noth- 
ing to  hurt  follows  ? 
A  dog  looks  upon  a  man  as  a  God  immeasur- 
ably   above    him,    and    fawns    upon    him.     A 
horse,    in    the    most     perfect     and     intimate 
relationship   with    a    man,  regards  him  as  his 
equal,    his   honoured   comrade,   to    whom  it  is 
his  delight  to  give  precedence  and  to  serve, 
but  socially  his  equal  and  no  more.     It  is  just 
his     most     beautiful    sense    of     equality    and 
comradeship,  which,  when  a  man  has  the  wit 
or   gift   fully  to   perceive   and   understand   it, 
makes  the   horse   such   a  priceless  companion 
and  friend.     To  win  the  real  active  love  of  a 
horse  is  a  wonderful  experience,  something  to 
remember  and  be  thankful  for,  for  aU  one's  life. 
It  is  so  pure  and   unselfish.     He  will  do  any- 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

thing  for  you,  which  you  can  make  him  under- 
stand you  want  done.  He  will  protect  j'^ou, 
and  savage  anything  that  tries  to  attack  you. 
Love  illumines  his  intelligence,  and  the  stories 
of  the  horse  picking  his  wounded  master  up 
by  his  clothing,  and  carrjdng  him  off  the  battle- 
field to  safety,  are  true. 

You  have  got  your  horse  pulled  over  on  his 
side.  He  is  not  the  least  bit  afraid  of  you, 
and  you  can  take  any  kind  of  hberty  with  him. 
If  you  are  young  and  lusty  you  can  now  make 
a  gi^eat  coup,  which  will  save  a  whole  heap  of 
time.  Carry  the  halter  rope  round  the  neck, 
and  tie  the  loose  end  to  the  other  side  of  the 
halter  nose  band,  to  make  a  bridle  and  rein.* 
Undo  the  strap  on  the  near  foreleg,  straighten 
out  the  leg  and  massage  it  thoroughly,  which 
will  be  a  great  rehef  to  the  horse.  Go  behind 
him,  get  on  his  body  and  encourage  him  to 
roll  up  on  a  level  keel.  Put  your  arms  round 
his  neck,  play  with  him  and  encourage  him  to 
rise.  He  will  do  so,  but  continue  to  talk  to 
him  and  to  make  play  with  your  hands,  to 
give  him  time  to  make  up  his  mind  about  this 
strange  thing  on  his  back.  Never  let  active 
trouble  with  a  horse  have  a  chance  of  arising. 
If  there  is  the  least  risk  of  it  you  can  always 
tell,  and  "  right  there "  do  something  that 
favourably  distracts  the  horse's  thoughts  into 

♦The  author  has  developed  a  halter  especially  designed 
for  horse-taming  and  training  operations. 

58 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

another  channel.  It  is  so  much  easier  to 
avoid  than  to  overcome  trouble.  Fetch  out  a 
handful  of  oats,  hold  it  out  to  him  in  the  right 
hand  and  pull  his  head  round  to  it  by  the  halter- 
bridle.  He  recognises  that  the  weight  on  his 
back  is  the  Master  of  Oats,  and  all  risk  of 
trouble  is  at  an  end.  Pat  him  and  make  a 
great  fuss  with  him,  and  work  about  a  bit  on 
his  back  for  a  little  ;  then  ask  him  to  move 
on.  Lo  !  you  are  riding  the  wild  horse  and 
the  odd  thing  is  that  he  makes  not  the  faintest 
objection  !  Take  him  all  round  the  straw-yard, 
backwards  and  forwards,  stop  him,  move  him 
on  again  until  he  responds  promptly  to  every 
direction  and  indication  of  your  will.  Then 
sUp  down  slowly  from  his  back,  pet  him  some 
more,  and  administer  just  a  trifle  of  oats. 
Move  off,  and  he  will  follow  you.  Wherever 
you  go  he  will  follow,  with  his  nose  a  little  in 
advance  of  your  elbow,  and,  when  you  stop 
he  will  stop,  and  most  probably  rub  his  nose 
or  neck  against  you.  As  the  quickest  means 
of  promoting  confidence,  affection,  and  smart 
response  to  your  desires,  the  thromng  of  the 
horse  and  the  massage  which  follows,  exactly 
as  in  the  methods  described,  cannot  be  even 
approached  by  any  other  system  of  treatment. 

Untie  the  halter  rope,  and  move  off  again 
with  it  in  your  hand.  He  will  follow  as  before, 
close  up  to  you,  without  any  pull  on  the  rope, 
just   because   he   Hkes  to  be   near   you.     But 

59 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you  want  to  teach  him  the  pull,  and  to  attend 
to  it.  Move  off  at  right  angles  to  his  course ; 
because,  in  so  doing,  you  exert  the  maximum 
of  leverage  on  his  neck.  He  will  come  round 
and  in  three  or  four  minutes  he  will  have  learned 
that  he  is  to  follow  the  pull  wherever  it  leads 
and  will  assist  in  this  new  game  with  all  good 
will  and  pleasure.  When  you  bid  him  adieu  at 
the  gate,  he  will  crj?-  out  in  distress  because  he 
cannot  follow. 

Repeat  the  whole  process  on  three  orf our  days. 
The  second  day  there  may  be  a  bit  of  a  fight, 
and  on  the  third  still  less.  On  the  fourth 
day  he  will  probably  he  down  within  half  a 
minute  of  the  strap  being  put  on.  Now  say 
"  lie  down "  to  him  each  time  in  a  voice  of 
authority,  and,  in  a  week,  he  will  do  so,  by 
giving  him  the  word  and  lifting  up  his  near 
foot.  In  eight  or  ten  days,  say  the  word  and 
tap  the  near  leg  with  the  whip,  and  you  will 
find  it  sufficient.  In  a  fortnight,  he  will  lie 
down  to  the  word  of  command  alone. 

The  First  and  Second  Handlings  should  be 
carried  out  by  yourself  alone,  for  it  is  of  para- 
mount importance  that  the  horse  should  give 
you  his  undivided  attention  all  the  time.  If 
you  wish  any  spectators  of  your  prowess,  they 
must  be  concealed  from  the  horse  and  keep 
perfectly  quiet.  Peepholes  or  a  lattice  meet 
the  case  ;  but  above  all  tie  up  that  infernal  dog. 


60 


TEAINING    TO    SADDLE 


CHAPTER  V 
TRAINING  TO  SADDLE 

IF  you  have  effected  the  coup  suggested 
at  the  end  of  the  last  chapter,  and 
backed  your  horse  as  he  rose  at  the  end 
of  the  massage  seance,  you  will  have  very 
little  trouble  in  training  him  to  saddle.  But 
for  various  good  reasons  you  may  have  pre- 
ferred not  to  attempt  this,  although,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  it  is  attended  with  very  little 
risk,  either  as  to  the  unsettling  of  the  horse, 
or  of  damage  to  yourself.  If  you  elect  not 
to  try  it — proceed  with  the  haltering  of  the 
horse  as  first  directed,  but  leave  the  end  of  the 
halter  rope  loose  and  throw  it  on  his  neck. 
Instead  of  riding  him  round  the  straw-yard, 
let  him  follow  you  quite  loose,  which  he  will 
do,  and  stop,  when  you  stop.  Then  take  the 
end  of  the  halter,  keeping  it  slack,  and  let  him 
follow  you  again  without  any  pull.  Make  the 
first  puU  at  right  angles  to  his  centre  line  and 
proceed  as  before. 

Repeat  the  programme  for  the  next  three 
or  four  days,  and,  when  he  is  thoroughly  used 

63 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

to  the  haltering  and  takes  no  notice  of  t,  bring 
in  a  bridle  and  single  reins,  with  a  big  snaffle 
bit.  You  have  already  handled  his  mouth, 
hps  and  tongue  a  lot,  so  you  will  have  little 
trouble.  Let  him  see  the  bridle  and  reins, 
which  you  should  bundle  up,  and  let  him  smell 
them  all  he  wants.  Rub  his  neck  and  head 
with  the  bundle  while  he  is  l3dng  on  his  side, 
and  he  will  think  it  is  some  new  variation  of 
the  massaging  process  and  will  remain  quite 
unconcerned.  Let  him  get  up  on  the  even  keel. 
Get  the  bit  warm  in  your  hand,  or  by  pressing^ 
it  on  his  neck  to  get  the  chill  off,  and,  while 
you  are  playing  with  his  mouth,  just  slip  it  in 
and  go  on  massaging.  He  may  not  like  it 
and  may  resist  a  little;  if  so,  remember  the 
oats,  and  he  mil  forget  all  about  the  bit  in  his 
eagerness  to  get  at  the  oats.  While  he  is 
munching  and  thinking  only  of  the  oats,  get 
the  bridle  gently  over  his  ears  and  on  his  head, 
and  buckle  the  throat-lash.  The  bit  will  bother 
him  a  little  at  first  ;  but  give  him  a  few  more 
oats  and  go  on  massaging,  and  by  and  by 
he  will  get  quite  used  to  this  new  disagreeable, 
and  forget  all  about  it. 

With  the  bridle  now  on,  pull  him  gently 
but  forcibly  from  the  even  keel  position  on  to 
his  side,  remembering  to  first  bend  his  neck 
to  get  the  leverage,  which,  whether  he  likes 
it  or  not,  will  make  him  come.  He  had  got 
used  to  the  halter  puU  and  responded  cheer- 
ed 


Two    photographs   of   Marzouk    in    1906 


[To  face  page  64 


k 


Hugh    Calthrop    on    Fitz,    1919 


Fitz,  a  battle-scarred   hero,  who  served  through    the  Palestine 
and  Senussi  Campaigns 


[To  face  page  65 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

fully  and  without  hesitation ;  but  on  this 
occasion  you  must  be  prepared  to  have  to  use 
rather  more  force,  because  the  bit  may  hurt 
him  a  little  and  he  may  resist.  Slack  the  pull 
the  moment  he  is  down,  go  to  his  head  and 
make  a  fuss  of  him.  He  will  forget  all  about 
the  casual  nip  of  the  bit. 

Let  him  get  right  up,  ana  leave  the  rein 
loose  on  his  neck.  He  will  give  renewed 
attention  to  the  bit,  which  he  champs  and 
doesn't  like.  A  few  more  oats,  and  stroke 
his  nose  and  pat  his  neck.  Gently  bring  the 
rein  past  his  ears  and  over  his  head,  and  put 
it  back  again  on  his  neck.  Do  this  several 
times,  until  he  takes  no  notice  of  it.  Then 
with  the  rein  quite  slack,  move  ahead  and 
he  will  follow  you.  Go  through  the  same 
manoeuvres  as  with  the  halter,  until  he  is  in 
all  circumstances  perfectly  accustomed  to  the 
bridle  and  bit.* 

Now  to  prepare  him  for  the  saddle.  Get  a 
rug  circingle,  show  it  to  him  and  let  him  smeU 
it  all  he  wants.  Bundle  it  and  let  him  smell 
it  again.  Rub  his  head  with  it,  then  along  his 
neck  on  to  his  back.  Talk  to  him  all  the 
while.     Run  your  arms  through  the  rein,  until 

*  A  course  of  the  use  of  tlie  Cavasson  bit  for  mouthing,  to 
harden  the  mouth  and  gums,  can  be  interposed  here  for  those 
who  prefer  this  system  ;  but  the  author  has  broken  so  many 
horses  and  ponies  to  the  bit  in  the  simple  manner  described, 
giving  them  quite  perfect  mouths,  that  the  Cavasson  bit 
course  is  not  essential. 

65 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you  get  the  least  pull  on  his  mouth  with  your 
elbow,  and  can  hold  the  bundled  circingle  with 
your  left  hand.  With  your  right,  lower  the 
strap  end  of  circingle  slowly  down  his  oS  side, 
taking  care  that  it  doesn't  flap  about.  Lower 
until  the  whole  length  is  on  the  off  side,  depend- 
ing from  the  buckle  end  held  in  the  left  hand. 
Scratch  him  on  the  back  with  the  right  hand, 
then  slowly,  backwards  and  forwards,  going 
lower  along  his  near  side  down  to  his  stomach. 
Keep  on  rubbing  with  your  wrist,  while  you 
stretch  your  right  hand  under  the  stomach 
to  lay  hold  of  the  circingle,  and,  when  you  have 
got  it,  continue  the  rubbing  with  your  knuckles 
until,  on  the  near  side,  you  have  raised  the 
strap  end  up  to  the  buckle  held  in  the  left 
hand.  Buckle  it  gently  without  any  squeezing 
and  take  him  for  a  walk  round  the  yard.  Bring 
him  to  a  stand  and  tighten  the  straps  a  little,^ 
and  go  for  another  walk.  Repeat  this  until 
you  have  got  the  circingle  well  tightened  up. 

Get  a  stout  sack,  sew  up  the  mouth  end  and 
make  a  small  opening  in  the  middle  of  one  side. 
Place  the  sack  lengthways  across  his  back, 
so  that  the  opening  lies  uppermost  just  above 
his  spine.  Tie  the  sack  to  the  top  of  the  cir- 
cingle so  it  cannot  shp  ofi.  Through  the 
central  opening  put  a  stone  weight  of  potatoes, 
half  on  each  side.  Take  the  horse  by  the 
bridle  and  walk  and  trot  him  round  the  yard. 
Put  in  another  stone  of  potatoes,  half  on  each 

66 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

side,  and  take  him  round.  Gradually  increase 
the  weight  until  you  have  four  or  five  stone  of 
potatoes  on  each  side.  You  have  thus  nearly 
the  weight  of  a  man  on  his  back.  He  will 
make  no  objection.  Make  him  lie  down,  un- 
buckle the  circingle  and  pull  the  load  off  his 
back. 

Next  day  bring  a  saddle  in,  with  girths, 
stirrup  leathers,  and  irons.  Show  them  to  the 
horse  and  let  him  smell  them  all  he  wants. 
Rub  the  saddle  along  his  neck,  raise  it  at  the 
wither  and  lower  it  on  to  his  back.  He  will 
remember  the  sack  and  potatoes  and  make  no 
objection.  Gradually  tighten  the  girths  in  the 
same  manner  as  with  the  circingle.  Put  the 
sack  over  the  saddle,  and,  as  before,  fill  up 
gradually  with  potatoes.  Manoeuvre  him  in 
ever  J  way  about  the  yard  ;  make  him  lie  down 
and  get  up  again  with  the  load.  Do  this  two 
or  three  times. 

Next  day  follow  the  same  programme  with 
the  saddle  and  sack  ;  but,  on  the  second  time 
of  lying  down,  get  rid  of  the  load  and  take  its 
place  yourself.  He  will  get  up  with  you  on 
his  back,  and  make  little  or  no  fuss  about 
doing  so.  Talk  to  him  and  play  with  his  neck 
and  head  before  moving  him  on.  Then  ride 
him  slowly  at  walking  pace  all  round  the  yard 
with  stops,  and,  when  quite  used  to  it,  quicken 
his  pace  and  ultimately  let  him  trot.  It  will 
be  heavy  going  in  the  straw-yard,   but  it  is 

67 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

well  to  give  him  his  first  experience  there, 
preparatory  to  work  outside,  because  it  is 
so  easy  to  stop  him,  and  it  is  most  important 
to  teach  him  to  slow  down,  or  to  stop  dead, 
at  your  direction. 

Do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  mount  by  the  stir- 
rup. Dismount  by  it  several  times  first,  so 
that  he  becomes  accustomed  to  the  lop-sided 
weight.  As  you  lead  him  about  the  yard  on 
foot,  stop  and  put  all  the  weight  you  can  on 
the  near  stirrup  by  your  hand.  Do  this  a 
number  of  times.  Put  a  box  near  a  corner  of 
the  vard,  so  that  by  standing  on  it  you  get  a 
lift.  "^ 

The  horse's  head  should  face  the  corner, 
so  that  he  can't  go  forward.  Stand  on  the 
box  and  try  your  foot  in  the  stirrup  several 
times,  putting  more  and  more  weight  on  it. 
With  your  foot  in  the  stirrup,  lean  over  the 
saddle  and  put  weight  on  it.  Do  it  several 
times,  and,  when  he  stands  perfectly  quiet, 
take  the  opportunity  to  put  your  leg  across 
and  seat  yourself.  Sit  there  and  play  with 
him.  Don't  move  awa}^  Get  oS  on  to  the 
box  and  seat  yourself  again.  Do  it  a  number 
of  times.  You  are  teaching  him  to  under- 
stand that  this  kind  of  exercise  is  to  be  per- 
formed on  his  back  while  he  stands  quite  still. 
Mount  in  this  way  for  two  or  three  days  before 
attempting  to  mount  him  from  the  ground.  It 
is   a    very   important    lesson     and   should   be 

68 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

thoroughly  taught.  Back  him  out  from  the 
corner  quite  gently,  using  the  word  "  Back," 
and  let  part  of  the  day's  work  be  the  teaching 
of  him  to  back  in  the  open. 


69 


HANDLING    IN    THE    STABLE 


CHAPTER  VI 
HANDLING  IN  THE  STABLE 

IN  the  straw-yard  you  have  taught  your 
horse  to  lead  perfectly,  and  it  is  his 
own  desire  to  follow  you.  Take  him 
out  of  the  straw-yard  with  his  halter  and 
practise  him  at  leading  outside,  taking  care 
that  you  select  a  place  where  there  are  no 
other  horses  or  other  excitements  to  distract 
his  attention  from  you,  and,  above  all,  see 
that  the  infernal  dog  has  been  double  chained. 
When  you  get  outside  give  him  just  a  taste 
of  the  oats,  to  remind  him  that  you  carry  them. 
Coming  out  of  the  yard  for  the  first  time  he 
will  be  inclined  to  play  up  a  little,  so  you  have 
to  be  watchful.  You  have  less  control  over 
him  on  a  loose  lead,  than  you  would  have  in 
the  saddle,  and  it  is  most  important  that  in 
this  first  outing  he  should  not  break  away  from 
you.  It  is  in  any  case  desirable  that  the 
enclosure  should  be  a  small  one,  so  that,  in 
the  event  of  his  accidentally  snatching  the 
halter  from  your  hand,  he  is  not  free  to  get 
away  for  a  gaUop. 

73 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Whatever  you  do,  do  not  risk  a  trial  of 
personal  strength — ^tug  of  war  wise — ^in  which, 
if  he  gets  the  better  of  you,  the  illusion  that 
you  are  the  stronger  animal  may  be  weakened. 
If  you  are  in  any  danger  of  being  pulled  into 
too  fast  a  run  at  the  end  of  a  tight  rope  with 
the  necessity  of  letting  go  to  save  yourself, 
always  let  the  rope  go  when  it  is  slack,  so  that 
he  understands  you  have  let  it  go  of  your  own 
volition.  The  moment  you  drop  the  rope, 
stand  still,  and  do  not  attempt  to  follow  him, 
not  a  step.  Just  stand  there  perfectly  motion- 
less and  you  will  find  he  will  come  up  to  you. 
It  may  take  a  minute,  two,  three  or  four ; 
but  he  will  come  up  to  you.  Keep  your  hands 
in  your  pockets,  and  simply  stand  there  talking 
to  him.  Don't  attempt  to  grab  him.  Let  him 
go  away  again  if  he  likes,  he  is  sure  to  come 
back.  It  is  he  who  is  to  be  made  impatient. 
Keep  dead  quiet.  He  will  take  a  sniff  of  you 
and  eventually  rub  his  nose  against  your 
sleeve.  With  the  slowest  possible  movement, 
withdraw  one  hand  from  your  pocket  and  see 
that  there  are  some  oats  in  it.  The  victory 
is  won. 

Then  slowly  move  on  a  pace  or  two.  He 
will  follow.  Then  on  again.  He  will  be  there. 
Just  a  few  more  oats,  and  with  the  same  hand 
gently  scratch  his  neck  and  get  on  to  that 
pet  place  on  his  back.  Who  is  thinking  of 
halters  now  ?     Keep  on  scratching,  and,  with 

74 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

the  other  hand,  just  lay  hold  of  it,  keeping  it 
quite  slack. 

The  cold-blooded  result  is  that  your  horse 
has  come  back  and  handed  you  his  halter 
himself.  Isn't  it  the  best  way  ?  Do  it  quite 
a  number  of  times,  and  then  you  will  find 
you  have  taught  your  horse  that  when  he  is 
loose,  or  has  broken  away,  the  right,  proper 
and  often  remunerative  thing  is  to  come  back 
to  you.  It  ends  in  an  added  confidence  in  you 
as  his  master. 

Compare  this  effect  upon  the  horse's  mind 
with  that  produced  by  an  excited  groom  hang- 
ing on  to  a  halter  and  pulled  up  and  down 
the  yard  until  he  falls,  or  is  forced  to  give  way  ; 
the  chasing  of  the  scared  horse  by  the  groom 
and  a  couple  of  stable  boys,  into  a  corner,  in  the 
endeavour  to  secure  him  ;  his  escape  and  more 
chasing,  until  he  is  finally  grabbed  amongst 
curses  and  hung  on  to  by  brute  force.  This 
is  what  you  must  often  expect  if  you  leave  your 
horse's  training  to  others. 

Now  your  "  wild  "  horse  has  never  yet  been 
in  a  stable,  at  least  not  since  he  was  a  foal. 
So  continue  your  leading  lesson  until  you 
arrive  outside  of  his  new  quarters,  of  which  he 
will  be  suspicious  before  ever  he  enters  them. 
Before  he  gets  to  the  stable,  send  someone  in 
to  chase  out  the  sparrows,  or  they  will  swish 
out  in  a  concentrated  covey  just  as  he  gets 
to  the  door. 

75 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Whenever  there  is  any  expectation  of  any 
sort  of  difficulty  or  trouble,  always  do  the 
oblique  thing.  It  is  so  much  quicker  in  the 
end.  Now  what  you  want  him  to  do  is  to 
come  out  of  the  light  into  a  dark  doorway,  on 
to  dimly  seen  clattering  bricks,  into  what 
appears  to  him  impenetrable  gloom,  peopled 
to  a  certainty  with  every  kind  of  equine  bogey 
and  hobgoblin. 

The  usual  groom's  unthinking  way  would 
be  to  hang  on  to  halter,  speak  soothingly  to 
him,  and  get  the  boys  to  try  to  drive  him  in 
with  shouts  and  a  whijo  behind.  Naturally 
there  would  be  trouble  of  the  severest  kind. 
The  horse,  until  a  few  days  ago,  was  unhandled 
and  wild ;  and,  the  moment  he  felt  coercion, 
every  hereditary  instinct  of  fear  would  in- 
stantly blaze  up,  and  he  would  concentrate 
every  effort  of  which  he  was  capable  to  get 
away  from  that  terrible  place.  Even  if,  by 
brute  force,  he  was  got  in,  and  nothing  more 
happened  to  him,  the  shock  to  his  nerves 
would  be  great,  and  half  the  good  of  your 
previous  training  would  be  dissipated  right 
there.  He  would  be  nervous  for  hours  after- 
wards, and  the  disastrous  effects  would  be 
visible  in  an  immediate  alteration  in  his  demean- 
our to  you,  not  only  when  you  followed  him 
into  the  stable,  but  again  when  you  got  him 
outside.  Even  if  you  were  not  present  and 
were  miles  away,  you  can  always  tell  when  a 

76 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

groom's  outrage  has  been  perpetrated  upon  a 
horse  of  yoiu*  own  handling. 

There  is  only  one  way  in  which  your  disciple 
should  go  into  that  terrifying  place,  and  that 
is  of  his  own  accord.  And  it  is  perfectly  easy 
if  you  make  the  approach  oblique.  Take  him 
past  the  door,  which  should  be  open,  several 
times  without  any  apparent  intention  of  your 
asking  him  to  go  inside,  and  bring  him  to  a 
stand  some  way  off  it.  Do  it  again  and  bring 
him  to  a  stand  nearer  the  door.  Pet  and 
scratch  him.  Next  time  take  him  up  to  the 
door,  as  if  you  had  come  to  a  stand  there 
accidentally.  Pet  and  scratch  again.  While 
you  are  doing  this  he  will  turn  his  head  round 
to  look  inside,  and  will  snort  disapproval. 
Take  no  notice,  but  go  on  scratching  and  let 
him  look  inside  and  snort  all  he  wants.  Go 
yourself  into  the  portal  and  give  him  just  a 
few  oats.  Instantly  his  attention  forsakes  the 
hobgobUns  for  something  much  more  tangible 
and  worth  while.  Pet  and  pat  him  again, 
which  will  bore  him  a  little  when  oats  are 
about,  and  he  will  worry  you  for  more  oats. 
Move  back  into  the  doorway  just  a  few  inches, 
and  he  will  follow  up.  As  he  does  so,  retreat 
a  Uttle  further  with  oats  in  your  hand.  He 
will  come,  maybe  with  a  precautionary  snort 
or  two  on  account  of  the  gloom,  but  oats  are 
worth  taking  a  Httle  risk  for  at  any  time,  and 
his  eyes  are  getting  used  to  things.     Further- 

/        77 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

more  he  has  the  utmost  confidence  in  you, 
and,  if  you  are  not  afraid,  he  is  not  quite  sure 
why  he  should  be.  Keep  on  talking  to  him 
cheerily  and  let  the  halter  be  quite  loose.  A 
pull  on  it  would  excite  suspicion  at  once.  Let 
the  only  pull  be  the  pull  of  the  oats,  and  of 
your  personality,  as  you  move  back.  By  now 
he  has  got  quite  used  to  the  dim  light,  and  the 
occasional  snorts  are  only  an  intimation  that 
he  is  taking  notice  of  the  surroundings.  Move 
back  a  foot  or  two  with  an  exhibition  of  a  few 
oats,  and,  as  he  comes  forward,  move  still 
further  back ;  and  as  he  follows  up  he  will 
have  come  clear  inside.  Stand  by  his  shoulder 
and  hold  out  oats  at  arms-length,  and,  as  he 
pushes  forward  to  reach  them,  draw  slowly 
round  and  pivot  yourself,  so  that  he  has  to 
move  his  rump  round  from  the  doorway  the 
more  readily  to  get  them.  You  can  now 
quite  easily  swing  him  round  so  that  he  faces 
the  doorway.  Keep  him  so  and  play  with 
him.  Now  manoeuvre,  with  occasional  oats, 
so  that  by  reaching  back  you  can  get  at  the 
door,  and  quite  gradually  close  it.  Shut  and 
fasten  it  without  noise,  let  the  halter  drop, 
and  leave  him  to  his  own  devices,  without 
speaking.  Keep  quiet  and  he  will  go  round 
sniffing  and  examining  everything.  A  big 
snort  will  intimate  discovery  of  some  specially 
interesting  odoiu*  of  a  predecessor,  which  will 
occupy   his    undivided   attention   for    quite    a 

78 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

while,  for  he  is  sizing  up  in  his  own  mind  breed, 
height  and  sex.  More  discoveries  have  to  be 
made  and  attended  to,  and  when  these  have 
ceased  to  attract,  back  he  will  come  to  you 
with  the  obvious  question  "  What  about  those 
oats  ?  "     And  the  job  is  done. 

Is  all  this  trouble  worth  while  ?  Most 
assuredly.  It  is  all  training.  It  has  been  a 
great  experience  to  him,  for  he  has  come  in  of 
his  OAvn  free  wiU.  For  love  of  you  and  of  oats, 
he  has  done  violence  to  all  his  hereditary  in- 
stincts, and  has  so  increased  his  personal 
confidence  in  you  that  on  another,  and,  may 
be,  an  even  more  terrifying  occasion,  he  will 
display  even  less  hesitation  in  following  where 
you  go. 

The  practical  result  is  that  you  have  got 
him  into  the  stable,  not  only  without  any 
harm  to  his  nerves,  but  with  a  quieting 
effect  upon  them,  which  will  prove  an  asset  of 
value  in  the  future.  Give  him  water  and  a 
feed,  and  let  him  stop  there. 


In  the  stable  you  have  to  put  your  horse, 
which  up  to  now  you  have  handled  yourself 
exclusively,  in  the  care  of  your  groom,  and 
here  is  your  great  difficulty.  It  is  a  much 
easier  thing  to  train  a  horse  to  do  what  you 
want  him  to  do,  than  to  train  the  usual  Enghsh 

79 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

groom  to  do  what  you  want  him  to  do.  It  is 
against  his  nature  to  do  anything  contrary 
to  what  he  and  his  forefathers  have  always 
thought  proper  to  do.  In  the  way  of  feeding, 
grooming,  conditioning,  physicing  and  in 
attending  to  abrasions,  cuts  and  wounds,  the 
Enghsh  groom  is  excellent,  and  is  seldom  sur- 
passed by  the  horsemen  of  any  other  country  ; 
but  in  realising  the  true  nature  and  brain 
capacity  of  the  horse,  and  the  best  way  of 
handhng  and  training  the  horse,  the  average 
English  groom  seems  to  be  less  gifted  than  those 
of  many  other  countries.  Of  course  there  are 
many  brilliant  exceptions,  but  these  are  mostly 
men  of  mental  capacity  above  the  average, 
who  think  for  themselves,  and  have  broken 
away  from  the  traditions  and  dead  conser- 
vatism of  their  forefathers.  The  value  of  such 
men  is  inestimable. 

That  this  is  so,  those  who  have  travelled 
much  must  know  to  be  the  case,  and  the  reason 
which  has  borne  best  the  test  of  investigation 
is  the  somewhat  curious  one,  namely,  that  the 
great  bulk  of  English  grooms  have  had  to  do 
only  with  geldings  and  mares  bred  in  two's 
and  three's,  and  in  small  enclosed  paddocks. 
Many  English  grooms  are  utterly  afraid  of 
stalUons  of  any  kind  ;  look  upon  them  as  tigers 
and  wild  beasts  of  ungovernable  propensities, 
and  would  decline  to  enter  any  service  where 
they  would  be  called  upon  to  tend  them.  There 

80 


THE    USE    OF    ENTIRE    HORSES    FOR    TRACTION 


1.     Six  Percheron  stallions  pulling  a  load  of  20  tons  up   a 
heavy   gradient 


2.      Paris  omnibus  with  team  of  three   Percheron  stallions 

[To  face  page  80 


THE    USE    OP    ENTIRE    HORSES    FOR    TRACTION 


3.     Heavy    draught    Percheron     stallions    in    Paris 


4.     A   fine    pair   of  heavy    draught    Percheron    stallions   at 
the    Eiffel    Tower,   Paris 


[  To  Jace  page  81 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

is  a  traditional  prejudice  in  this  country  against 
the  employment  of  entu'e  horses  for  any  kind 
of  traction,  either  hght  or  heavy,  or  for  riding 
purposes,  and  if  enquiries  are  made  either  of 
masters  or  men  for  their  reasons,  answers  are 
given  which  the  experience  of  countries,  where 
entires  are  habitually  used  for  all  utilities,  show 
to  be  absolutely  at  variance  with  the  facts. 
Besides  being  capable  of  so  much  greater 
work  on  less  food,  besides  having  better  paces, 
much  greater  courage  and  endurance,  being 
less  susceptible  to  disease,  the  entire  horse 
possesses  much  greater  intelligence  and  capa- 
city for  difficult  work  and  is  quite  as  amenable 
to  control,  by  those  who  understand  him,  as 
any  gelding.  In  France,  Italy  and  other 
countries  it  is  not  uncommon  to  see  mares  and 
stallions  working,  peacefully  and  without  any 
disturbance,  in  the  same  teams.  Those  who 
know  the  staUion  at  work,  love  him.  Some 
of  the  most  beautiful  sights  in  the  world — 
now,  alas !  but  a  charming  memory — were  those 
thousands  of  splendid  teams,  of  three  Perche- 
ron  or  Boulonnais  stallions  abreast,  in  the  Paris 
omnibuses,  which  drew  twice  the  loads  of  our 
own  horse  buses,  at  a  much  greater  pace  and 
at  less  cost. 

These  Percheron  and  Boulonnais  staUions 
are  bred  by  farmers,  and,  when  weaned,  are 
turned  out  together  in  great  droves  in  the 
marshes    and  other    huge    pastures,    and    the 

81 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

men  who  handle,  break,  and  train  them  are 
some  of  the  best  horsemen  in  the  world.  The 
fiUies  are  similarly  segregated  in  other  pastures. 
These  men  learn  more  about  horse  nature  than 
almost  any  others  in  the  world,  and  the  results 
of  their  handHng  are  to  be  seen  in  the  universal 
gentleness,  confidence,  good  nature  and  perfect 
amenability  of  both  staUions  and  mares,  after 
leaving  their  hands.  The  first  thing  these 
men  learn  is  absolute  control  of  their  own 
tempers,  and  any  man  showing  temper  to  a 
horse  under  no  matter  what  provocation  is, 
with  the  entire  approval  of  his  fellows,  dis- 
missed permanently  as  constitutionally  un- 
fitted for  the  business,  and  a  source  of  danger 
to  his  mates.  This  lack  of  control  of  their 
tempers  with  horses  is  unfortunately  the 
common  characteristic,  rather  than  the 
exception  with  the  average  Enghsh  grooms 
and  horsemen,  and,  in  five  minutes,  thej^  often 
do  more  harm  to  horses  than  they  are  able, 
in  six  months,  to  repair. 

You  know  in  what  category  your  own  groom 
stands.  If  he  is  a  man  ever  shomng  bad 
temper  with  his  animals,  the  fruits  of  all  the 
careful  work  you  have  accomplished  with  your 
"  wild "  horse  are  liable  to  be  lost.  On  the 
other  hand,  your  groom  may  be  a  man  genuinely 
fond  of  his  charges,  open  to  try  new  waj^s  and 
to  see  if  there  is  anything  of  real  value  in  them. 
If  he  has  been  abroad  and  has  kept  his  eyes 

82 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  ears  open,  he  will  himself  have  discovered 
that  there  is  much  in  the  different  foreign 
practices  and  methods  of  handling  and  training, 
which  is  worthy  of  adoption  here,  and  that 
therefore  what  you  are  asking  him  to  do,  in 
continuation  of  the  special  handling  of  your 
"  wild  "  horse,  may  after  all  have  something 
of  value  in  it.  If  he  is  sensible,  he  will  give 
your  system  a  perfectly  straight  and  genuine 
trial.  If  he  does  so,  he  will  be  astonished  as 
to  the  amount  of  unnecessary  work  he  will  be 
saved  personally.  Let  it  be  left  at  that ; 
except  that  you  can  say  with  absolute  truth, 
if  there  is  any  kick  in  him  against  foreign 
practice,  that  your  system  is  that  of  an  English- 
man whose  family  have  been  English  and 
horsemen  for  a  thousand  years.  That  ought 
to  settle  him  all  right. 


Your  recently  "  wild  "  horse  is  in  the  stable, 
and  has  had  time  to  make  himself  quite  at 
home  there.  When  you  or  any  of  your  men 
go  in,  make  it  a  practice  to  speak  to  him  before 
opening  the  door,  which  should  be  done  as 
quietly  as  possible.  You  can  make  even  an 
old  and  steady  horse  quite  nervous  by  the 
constant  sudden  and  noisy  opening  and  shut- 
ting of  his  stable  door — much  more  so  a  young 
horse,  but  newly  brought  up  from  pasture. 

83 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

All  movements  in  the  stable  should  be  slow 
and  as  noiseless  as  possible,  and  the  more  the 
horse  is  spoken  to  the  better.  Speak  before 
you  go  up  to  the  horse.  When  you  approach 
him  do  so  slowly,  and,  above  all,  make  a 
practice  of  keeping  your  arms  quiet.  If  you 
put  out  your  hand  to  him,  do  it  quite  slowly. 
This  is  not  a  fad,  but  very  sohd  sense.  Never 
make  a  movement  of  your  hands,  or  arms, 
quicker  than  can  be  followed  by  the  horse's 
eye.  That  is  a  golden  rule,  and  saves  all  sorts 
of  shps  and  accidents  in  the  stable.  If  the 
horse  cannot  follow  the  movements  of  your 
hand  and  arm,  he  does  not  quite  know  where 
they  are  going,  or  what  they  are  going  to  do, 
and  shrinks  and  starts  in  fear  of  possibilities. 
It  is  a  little  difficult  to  train  yourseK  into  this 
system  of  slow  movement,  but  with  practice 
it  becomes  a  second  nature,  and  you  yourself 
will  quickly  appreciate  its  value,  by  the  in- 
creased confidence  and  readiness  with  which 
your  horse  permits  you  to  touch  and  handle 
any  part  of  his  body.  Impress  this  on  your 
groom,  and  get  him  to  practise  it  when  groom- 
ing, and  even  he  wiU  see  the  value  of  it ;  for  it 
means  an  end  to  aU  unexpected  bites  or  kicks, 
which,  undeservedly  received  as  he  thinks, 
are  a  trial  to  any  man's  temper. 

Don't  slam  a  bucket  down  on  the  bricks,  or 
let  the  handle  drop.  It's  just  as  easy  to  put 
both    down    quietly.     The    same    Avith    forks. 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

rakes,  pikels  and  brushes.  Attention  to  these 
matters  of  detail  results  in  the  permanent 
improvement  of  the  most  nervous  animal's 
nerves,  and  fewer  accidents  to  man  and  beast, 
both  in  and  out  of  the  stable.  If  you  take  care 
of  your  horse's  feeUngs,  you  will  find  he  will 
take  care  of  yours. 


It  is  easy  to  punish  a  horse ;  difl&cult  to 
convey  to  his  mind  the  definite  idea  of  reward 
for  good  work  done.  It  is  very  helpful  if  you 
can  do  so.  The  cheery  word  and  affectionate 
pat  are  an  indication  to  him  of  your  feeUngs, 
and  are  good  as  far  as  they  go.  He  returns 
them  with  equally  affectionate  nose  rubbings, 
and  nips  not  intended  to  hurt ;  but  in  the 
advanced  education  of  the  horse  you  want 
more  than  this.  You  want  to  use  the  stimulus 
of  reward,  and  to  get  him  to  understand  the 
idea  of  reward.  He  is  by  nature  such  a  noble- 
minded,  generous  beast  that  he  doesn't  seek 
reward,  and  will  do  everything  he  can  for  you 
from  pure  love  of  you.  In  your  handling  of 
him  you  have  given  him  oats,  as  a  distraction 
in  times  of  apprehended  difficulty,  with  success. 
It  has  been  helpful.  But,  when  he  is  brought 
up,  oats  become  part  of  his  ordinary  food, 
and  you  need  something  quite  distinctive ; 
and   for   the    purpose    of    reward,    nothing    is 

Q  85 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

better  than  lump  sugar.  It  is  portable, 
occupies  little  room,  and  all  horses  become 
passionately  fond  of  it. 

Now  it  is  a  tradition  of  the  old  time  British 
groom,  held  by  many  with  the  most  perti- 
nacious obstinacy,  that  sugar  of  any  kind  is 
utterly  disruptive  of  the  moral  and  material 
welfare  of  the  horse — ^that  it  induces  crib- 
/  biting,  wind-sucking,  bladder  trouble,  and 
every  evil  under  the  sun.  The  tradition  has 
been  handed  down,  sacrosanct  and  incon- 
trovertible, from  father  to  son,  without  the 
least  suspicion  that  it  is  really  the  most 
ridiculous  rot.  The  British  stud  groom  of 
the  highest  variety,  the  autocrat  of  a  great 
racing  stable  or  stud,  would  fall  down  in- 
stantly in  the  worst  kind  of  fit,  if  it  were  sug- 
gested to  him  even  by  his  Owner — usually  a 
personage  of  quite  minor  consideration  in  the 
stables — ^that  the  moderate  use  of  sugar  would 
help  to  molUfy  the  tempers  of  some  of  those 
man-eaters  which  the  great  man  produces 
with  such  facihty.  He  knows  nothing  of  the 
chemical  food-value  of  sugar,  or  of  its  work- 
sustaining  and  recuperative  powers  under 
great  stress  of  action,  but  condemns  it  utterly, 
because  that  still  more  conservative  and 
ignorant  person,  his  father,  did  so  before  him. 
But  those  who  have  been  in  the  tropics  know 
better.  In  the  West  Indies,  and  in  those 
parts    of    Central   and    South    America   where 

86 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

it  is  most  extensively  grown,  horses  and  poniea 
are  fed  almost  exclusively  on  sugar-cane,  as 
it  is  the  cheapest  food  product,  and  nowhere 
in  the  wide  world  are  the  animals  seen  in  such 
perfect  condition,  with  such  shining  coats 
and  found  to  be  so  free  from  every  kind  of 
sickness  and  disease.  Verb,  sap.,  or,  as  in 
U.S.A.,  "  Nuff  sed." 

To  a  horse  who  has  never  tasted  sugar,  it  is 
not  at  all  easy  at  first  to  give  it  to  him,  and 
requires  patience  and  good  handling.  The 
fact  that  you  have  already  massaged  his  head, 
lips,  mouth  and  tongue  is  a  distinct  help. 
Remembering  the  oats  he  will  at  once  take 
the  lump  into  his  mouth,  only  to  reject  it 
immediately.  Standing  on  the  near  side,  put 
your  right  hand  on  the  top  of  his  head,  to 
prevent  him  drawing  it  away  and  throwing  it 
up,  and  again  present  the  lump  with  the  left 
hand.  You  will  find  his  teeth  shut,  but  he 
will  play  with  the  lump  with  his  lips.  He 
will  keep  his  teeth  shut,  but,  if  you  press  the 
lump  against  his  teeth  and  rub  it  sideways 
on  them,  he  may  open  his  teeth  to  bite  the 
lump.  Hold  it  there  quietly,  and,  by  and 
by,  the  lump,  to  his  great  surprise,  will  give 
way  with  a  crash.  His  mouth  will  be  filled 
with  the  fragments,  and  his  first  impulse  is  to 
reject  the  lot.  He  may  succeed  in  getting 
rid  of  most,  but  some  will  remain,  and,  on 
turning  these  over  in  his  mouth,  he  will  find 

87 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

them  of  more  interest  than  he  thought.  After 
having  gone  through  this  process  with  about 
three  lumps,  he  will  have  caught  on  to  the 
idea,  and  will  himself  ask  for  more.  In  the 
case  of  a  few  horses,  they  really  don't  Uke 
the  sweet  taste  at  first,  but  persevere  and  they 
will  come  to  it.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  those 
who  at  first  obstinately  refuse  it,  in  the  end 
become  generally  the  more  passionately  fond 
of  it.  When  a  horse  is  accustomed  to  take 
sugar,  he  will  always  lick  your  fingers,  and 
some  few  wiU  suck  them.  It  becomes  a  very 
special  pleasure  to  him,  and  he  will  suck  or  lick 
your  fingers  for  as  long  as  you  let  him.  The 
practice  has  one  great  practical  advantage. 
A  horse,  who  has  become  accustomed  to  lick 
or  suck  your  fingers,  will  never,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances or  provocation,  attempt  to  bite 
you,  anywhere. 


88 


TRAINING    FOR    RIDING 


CHAPTER  VII 
TRAINING  FOR  RIDING 

WORKING  aU  by  yourself  in  the  straw- 
yard,  you  have  now  got  your  horse 
under  complete  control  in  every  way, 
and  entirely  dominated  by  your  personal  in- 
fluence. You  can  mount  him  by  stirrup,  and 
have  taught  him  to  stand  stock  still  until  you 
give  him  the  word  to  "  Back."  It  is  a  great 
thing  to  teach  it  in  this  way,  that  is  to  hack 
before  going  forward.  Get  the  sequence  of  the 
backing  thoroughly  ingrained  in  the  horse's 
mind  and  memory.  Keep  him  up  to  it,  and 
he  is  cured  in  advance  for  all  time,  however 
nervous  and  impatient  he  may  be  by  nature, 
of  that  most  objectionable  habit,  contracted 
by  so  many  horses,  of  starting  forward  the 
moment  the  foot  is  put  into  the  stirrup. 

In  the  straw-yard  you  have  turned  him  to 
left  and  to  right,  have  walked,  trotted  and 
cantered  him  as  well  as  the  confined  space 
permitted  ;  have  made  him  stand  at  any  place 
for  as  long  as  you  wanted ;  have  made  him  lie 
down  and  have  sat  on  him  for  as  long  as  you 

91 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

wanted  ;  have  made  him  get  up  at  your  word 
and  he  has  followed  without  pull  wherever 
you  went.  There  have  been  oats  on  occasion, 
scratcliing  and  so  on.  He  has  done  every- 
thing most  willingly,  and  altogether  he  looks 
upon  you  as  a  most  interesting  and  dehghtful 
pal,  and  Hkes  to  be  with  you  as  much  as  possible. 

In  the  small  paddock  or  stable-yard,  you 
have  taught  him  to  lead,  have  left  him  free  to 
go  about,  and  have  shown  him  that  you  are  the 
place  he  is  to  come  back  to.  In  the  entry  into 
the  stable  you  have  taught  him  that  it  is  safe 
to  follow  you  into  a  horrible  place.  It  is  now 
time  that  you  rode  him  outside. 

Bring  him  from  the  stable,  bridled  and 
saddled  but  loosely  girthed,  to  the  straw-yard. 
Put  kneecaps  on,  tighten  his  girths,  mount 
and  ride  him  around.  Dismount  and  make 
him  lie  down.  Mount  again,  have  the  old 
horse  brought  in  and  bring  him  alongside. 
Let  them  talk  to  each  other.  Have  some  of 
your  friends  in,  and  let  them  come  up  and  pat 
the  horse.  Have  even  the  infernal  dog  in. 
Spend  half  an  hour  this  way,  remove  and  tie 
up  the  dog,  double  chained.  Now  you  can 
open  the  gate  and  depart. 

The  first  outside  ride  had  better  be  in  one 
of  your  large  paddocks,  empty.  The  lesson 
to-day  is  restraint.  It  is  better,  for  the  whole 
time  you  are  out,  not  to  increase  the  pace 
beyond  the   walk.     Stop   a   great   number   of 

92 


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..«Ji 

Gladys   Calthrop    with    the    Skewbald    filly    by    Ro-Akbar,    1918 

[To  face  page  92 


v"  ^^  "^V*^,."^ '  ci4is??«*'»  ■ 


•  ^^;:*Hi*^^  -;^^'yii:^ 


?^^ 


Marladi 
The  swan   protests 


Rohan's   Last  Gift."    Romarsando    II    and    Romarsando    I,    1917 


To  face  p^ge    93 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

times  and  keep  the  horse  standing  for  minutes 
at  a  time.  Don't  forget  the  sugar.  Ride  all 
over  the  field,  under  the  trees  and  along  the 
hedges.  If  one  side  gives  upon  the  high  road, 
ride  him  along  it  to  get  him  acquainted  with 
the  traffic.  Let  him  stand  and  look  at  it. 
Take  him  into  the  centre  of  the  field  and  circle 
him  to  the  right  and  left  S-wise  and  figure-of-8. 
Dismount  and  let  him  follow  you.  Make  him 
lie  down  and  sit  on  him  ;  for  which  one  lump 
of  sugar.  Remount  and  ride  home.  Gently 
with  him  at  the  stable  door,  and  all  is  well. 

The  next  day,  not  forgetting  the  kneecaps, 
take  him  out  on  the  high  road  to  meet  the 
traffic.  This  day's  lesson  also  is  restraint,  so 
keep  him  at  the  walk.  You  will  have  a  most 
interesting  time  with  him.  Talk  to  him  a 
lot  and  watch  his  ears.  In  the  incidents  that 
occur  he  will  be  continually  appeahng  to  you 
for  guidance  and  support.  Ride  with  almost 
a  loose  rein,  and  give  your  indications  as 
lightly  as  possible.  Don't  force  them  on  his 
attention,  leave  him  to  look  for  them  and  you 
will  see  he  will  do  so.  He  is  young  and  it  is 
joUy  to  be  out,  and  all  these  new  sights  and 
sounds  are  so  thrilHng,  so  he  is  bound  to  play 
up  ;  but  restraint  is  the  lesson  of  the  day,  and 
he  is  attending  to  you.  When  he  plays  up, 
use  the  rein  as  little  as  possible,  use  your 
voice.  Reproach  him  just  as  you  would  a 
naughty  child.     It  will  have  effect,  and  when 

93 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

he  is  good  again  let  your  voice  indicate  your 
satisfaction.  After  half  a  dozen  times  of  this 
kind  of  thing,  it  mil  surprise  you  how  great 
is  the  efEect  of  your  voice  on  the  horse.  If 
you  give  all  the  indications  through  the  reins, 
he  will  look  to  the  reins  only  for  control ;  if  you 
give  most  of  your  indications  through  your 
voice  he  will  be  quick  to  attend  to  your  voice 
for  control.  Of  course  give  him  both,  but 
practise  him  mainly  by  the  voice  ;  it  is  the 
voice  that  stimulates  his  intelligence. 

It  is  the  voice  which  gives  him  encourage- 
ment in  the  face  ot  difficulty.  The  more  he 
has  attended  to  your  voice  for  guidance  and 
control,  the  greater  will  be  the  effect  of  its 
encouragement  in  soothing  his  fears.  You  put 
up  your  hand,  as  a  warning  to  an  approaching 
motor,  that  you  are  on  a  young  horse  in  train- 
ing, but  the  odds  are  10  to  1  that  the  motorist, 
either  from  pure  ignorance  of  the  danger,  or 
often  from  callous  indifference  to  anyone's 
comfort  but  his  own,  wiU  not  take  the  faintest 
notice  of  your  appeal.  It's  a  pretty  severe 
test  for  a  young  and  nervous  horse  to  meet  one 
of  these  road-hogs  whizzing  on  to  him  with  a 
cloud  of  dust  behind,  and  he  will  need  all  the 
encouragement  you  can  give  him.  Speak  to 
him  in  the  most  endearing  way,  keep  him  at  the 
walk ;  lean  down  and,  with  your  left  hand, 
pat  and  scratch  him  on  the  neck,  increasing 
the    pressure    of   the    scratching    as    the    car 

91 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

approaches,  until  it  is  quite  a  hard  scratch, 
before  it  passes  you.  It's  a  little  thing  to  do, 
but  it  distracts  a  certain  percentage  of  his 
attention  from  the  oncoming  fearsomeness, 
for  he  is  attending  to  you  as  well  as  to  the  car, 
and  it  may  be  that  the  increased  scratching 
prevents  his  fears  from  reaching  just  that  panic 
point  at  which  everjiihing  would  have  to  be 
abandoned,  and  flight — his  primeval  defence — 
would  dominate  all  of  his  brain  and  energy. 

If  he  comes  through  this  test  all  right,  you 
have  made  an  enormous  advance  with  the 
horse.  It  is  you  who  have  got  him  through 
this  trouble,  and  have  protected  him  from  the 
monster — he  is  quite  sure  of  that — and  if 
another  comes  along  he  knows  you  are  there 
to  help  him  again.  When  the  car  has  gone, 
make  a  great  fuss  over  him  and  show  him  what 
a  brave  nag  you  think  he  is.  He  wiU  be  so 
pleased  with  you  and  himself,  that  he  wiU 
want  another  car  to  come  along  right  there. 
It's  not  the  car,  but  the  jolljdng,  that  has  left 
the  indelible  impression. 

Other  road  adventures  will  be  less  fearsome, 
but  treat  them  all  in  the  same  way.  If  there 
is  anything  unusual  at  the  roadside,  take  him 
up  and  let  him  stand  and  look  at  it.  He  will 
take  an  extraordinary  interest  in  anything 
new  and  strange.  It  may  be  that  a  Gracious 
Providence  has  sent  your  road-hog  and  his 
friends  into  a  pub,  and  has  ordained  that  their 

95 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

car  should  be  buzzing  outside.  Watch  the 
disciple  spot  it  !  Watch  the  prick  of  those 
ears,  immovable,  pointed  like  bits  of  steel  ! 
He  will  come  to  a  dead  stand.  Give  him  a 
scratch  on  the  shoulders  just  to  remind  him 
of  the  support  you  gave  him,  but  don't  push 
him  on.  A  huge  snort  !  Then  another. 
Those  ears  of  steel  !  Every  muscle  braced 
and  tense  !  He  is  not  a  bit  frightened,  he  has 
too  much  confidence  in  you  for  that,  but  his 
attention  is  most  wholly  arrested. 

You  are  going  to  have  as  priceless  a  bit  of 
fun  as  you  have  ever  earned  in  your  hfe.  You 
are  going  to  watch  a  horse  under  the  influence 
and  interaction  of  the  most  powerful  emotions. 
You  Tvdll  see,  as  clearly  as  through  a  glass,  every- 
thing that  is  passing  in  his  mind.  You  will 
see  as  pretty  a  play  of  forces  as  you  could  wish ; 
suspicion,  apprehension  and  fear  pushing  one 
way,  interest  and  curiosity  another,  and  the 
horse's  natural  courage  and  his  confidence 
in  you  rising  all  the  time. 

Tizz — Tizz — Tizz,  pm-rs  the  motor  in  a  most 
fascinating  way,  Tizz — Tizz — Tizz.  "  This," 
says  the  disciple,  "  is  the  absolute  hmit.  I've 
heard  crickets  and  corncrakes  and  horse fhes, 
but  what  in  the  name  of  all  that's  buzzible  is 
this  ?  And  what's  it  doing  it  for  ?  It's  aUve 
all  right  !  I  can  see  it  shake.  Dash  my  eyes, 
but  it's  a  funny  thing.  Lets  go  a  bit  nearer 
and  see  what  it  is." 

96 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Just  scratch  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  of  his 
own  accord  he  will  take  a  step  or  two  closer 
to  it — ^with  all  precautions  of  course — because 
who  knows  whether  or  not  this  infernal  thing 
may  not  jump.  There  he  stands  and  has 
another  look,  and  a  snort  or  two.  Look  at 
those  pricked  ears.  Tizz — Tizz — Tizz.  He 
throws  his  head  up  and  down,  and  has  another 
look  and  a  snort.  One  ear  comes  back  just  to 
hear  what  you  have  got  to  say  about  it.  Tell 
him  it's  all  right,  with  another  scratch  on  the 
shoulders.  Of  his  own  accord  he  will  go  for- 
ward yet  another  step  or  two.  Clap  him  on 
the  neck  and  encourage  him,  and  just  gently 
touch  him  behind  with  the  whip  and  he  will 
go  right  up  to  within  five  or  six  yards  of  it. 
Tizz — Tizz — Tizz.  Let  him  stand  there  and 
look  and  snort  at  it  all  he  wants. 

(The  Nightmare. — A  motor  standing  buzzing 
by  the  side  of  the  road.  Enter  a  riding  lad  on  a 
young  and  nervous  horse.  The  horse  catches  sight 
of  the  motor,  throws  his  head  up  and  is  obviouslj^ 
scared.  The  boy  swears  at  him,  saws  at  his  mouth 
and  lashes  at  him  with  his  whip.  The  horse  tries 
to  swing  round  and  bolt.  The  boy  savages  him  and 
the  horse  rears.  The  boy  beats  him  and  presses 
him  forward.  He  gets  him  to  the  far  side  of  the 
road.  The  horse  terrified  and  trembling,  not 
knowing  what  he  is  doing,  forces  himself  into  the 
hedge,  gets  pricked,  and  rears  again.  The  boy 
lashes  him  and  gets  him  a  yard  or  two  further,  and 
the  horse,  with  his  head  strained  round  in  agonised 

97 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

gaze  on  the  motor,  makes  a  burst  forward,  and, 
seeing  safety  in  the  road  beyond,  dashes  past  in 
frantic  fear.  The  boy,  cursing,  saws  at  his  mouth, 
which  is  bleeding,  and  the  horse,  a  mass  of  sweat,  is 
pulled  up  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  on.  On  return 
the  riding  lad,  asked  to  account  for  the  condition 
of  the  horse,  which  is  still  excited  and  trembling, 
answers,  "  Oh  I  had  a  little  trouble  to  get  him  to 
pass  a  motor.") 

At  the  distance  of  five  or  six  yards,  ride  him 
up  and  down  past  the  motor,  letting  the  disciple 
keep  his  head  to  it  all  the  time.  Tizz — Tizz — 
Tizz  purrs  the  motor,  and  the  horse  is  getting 
used  to  it.  Come  to  a  stand  opposite  the  rear 
wheel.  Scratch  his  neck  and  tell  him  to  go  up 
to  it.  And  he  will,  a  little  at  a  time  and  with 
a  bit  of  snorting,  until  he  actually  touches  the 
hood  with  his  nose.  Brave  old  disciple  !  How 
pleased  he  is  !  Make  all  the  fuss  in  the  world 
of  him  and  he  will  touch  it  again  and  again, 
curling  his  lip  up,  if  he  thinks  the  smell  a  bit 
poignant.  Then  he  will  look  round  at  you  as 
though  to  say  "  Mate  !  I  don't  think  much  of 
this,  it's  all  right !  "  Move  him  a  foot  or  two 
along,  to  get  another  smell  in  a  fresh  place. 
He  will  do  that  and  ask  for  more.  Move  him 
along  to  the  bonnet.  Here  it  is  a  little  more 
exciting,  as  this  is  undoubtedly  the  place  where 
the  Tizz — ^Tizz — Tizz  comes  from,  and  there 
are  all  sorts  of  essences  and  flavours  which  he 
has    never    met    before.     He    holds    his    head 

98 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

up  and  is  going  to  tliink  this  matter  out.     See 
the  play  of  his  ears  ;  one  second  both  pricked 
forward,  then  one  comes  back  and  then  the 
other,  and  then  a  shake  of  the  head  and  a 
saucy  glance  at  you  to  see  what  you  make  of  it. 
He  is  not  so  free  with  his   nose  as  a  prehensile 
tester  this   time — it's  the   smells    part    which 
he  has  under  examination  and  grave  consider- 
ation.    He  will  bob  his  head  up  and  down  a 
little,  and  then,  up  will  go  his  nose  high  in  the 
air,    his   neck    stretched   to    its    utmost    limit 
with  his  upper  lip  curled  right  over  his  nose. 
First  one  way  will  he   screw  his   head  round, 
and  then  the  other,  with  lip  curled  up  and  all 
the  time  he  is  taking  great  sniffs  of  air.     Eh, 
but  this  horse  is  a  great  connoisseur  in  smells  ! 
He  is  not  going  to  lose  any  part  of  one  of  them. 
He  lowers  his  head  and  pops  his  nose  into  the 
density  of  something  quite  special  in  the  way 
of  an  odour,  gets  it,  sweeps  his  head  up  into 
the  air  again,  and  begins  a  slow  long-drawn- 
out  inspiration,  with  a  spiral  movement  of  his 
curled-up    nose,    which    does    not    allow    one 
particle    of   it   to    escape   examination   or  be 
wasted.     It  is  so  entrancing  that   he  has  to 
shut  his  eyes.     Tizz — Tizz — Tizz.     He  has  got 
to  the  bottom  of  the  smells  and  has  secured 
quite  a  lot  of   satisfaction  out  of    them,   and 
thinks  it  time  to  investigate  further  this  thing 
that   does  the   Tizz — Tizz — Tizz,   so     out  goes 
his  nose  against  the  bonnet.     Just  a  touch  and 

99 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

he  gets  a  thrill  of  vibration.  Gee-whizz,  he 
starts  back.  What  was  that  ?  Snort,  snort, 
snort.  But  it  didn't  hurt — so  out  goes  the 
nose  and  he  tries  again.  Start  and  snort. 
Dear  me  !  this  is  very  odd,  but  there's  really 
nothing  in  it.  Once  again — no,  there's  posi- 
tively nothing  in  it.  So  up  comes  his  head 
and  he  turns  round  to  look  out  of  that  dark 
eye  at  you  and  to  tell  you  there  ain't  a  darned 
thing  in  it,  and  its  positively  boresome  !  He 
looks  up  the  road  and  watches  a  dog,  and  is 
doing  nothing  more  in  motors. 

So  move  him  away  and  bring  him  back 
past  the  motor,  and  he  doesn't  even  look  at  it. 
Do  this  once  or  twice  more,  and  that  bogey  has 
fallen  down  dead,  and  it  can  Tizz  all  it  likes 
for  what  he  cares.     It's  a  sheer  fraud. 

It's  worth  a  lump  of  sugar,  though,  and  so 
homewards.  We  are  pleased  with  everything 
we  have  seen,  and  with  everything  we  meet. 


100 


TRAINING    FOR     RIDING 
{Continued) 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TRAINING  FOR  RIDING 

{Gontinued) 

THERE  are  always  two  ways — ^inducing 
a  horse  to  do  a  thing  of  his  own 
accord,  and  compeUing  him  to  do  it  through 
fear  of  punishment.  After  the  first,  you 
have  him  regarding  you  as  a  friend.;  after 
the  second,  he  holds  you  in  fear,  in  fact  as  an 
enemy.  Under  no  matter  what  circum- 
stances, was  any  good  ever  done  to  a  horse  by 
punishing  him  so  severely  that  the  impression 
left  upon  his  mind  is  that  the  man  who  did  it 
was  his  enemy !  Good  is  done  sometimes — 
but  not  to  the  horse.  Occasionally  a  horse 
turns  and  kills  a  man  who  has  brutally  ill-used 
him.  The  man  does  not  look  pretty  after- 
wards. 

The  whole  art  of  successful  horse-education 
and  training,  for  whatever  purpose,  is  the 
careful  thinking  out  of  methods  by  which  you 
get  the  horse  to  himself  elect  to  do  the  thing 
you  want  him  to  do.     You  make  him  think, 

103 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  in  making  him  think  habitually,  you 
stimulate  his  brain  power  and  increase  his 
intelligence.  In  his  instinctive  defences,  no 
animal's  brain  is  quicker  to  act  than  that  of  the 
horse.  It  is  a  splendid  instrument  for  his  own 
purposes,  but  you  must  learn  how  to  use  it 
for  yours.  Many  think  the  horse  is  stupid. 
He  is  not.  Perfect,  each  one  of  his  senses  is 
probably  far  keener  than  yours.  Sight,  on 
the  plains  he  AviU  pick  up  a  soUtary  horse 
feeding,  or  a  troop  of  horses,  long  before  you 
have  any  suspicion  of  their  whereabouts. 
Hearing,  he  will  catch  a  trot,  gallop,  footpace 
or  neigh,  when  you  can  hear  nothing.  Taste, 
who  so  clean  feeding  as  the  horse  ?  Smell,  he 
distinguishes  thousands  of  nuances  you  know 
nothing  of,  and  deduces  confidence  or  distrust 
from  a  sniff,  in  a  manner  you  cannot  even 
conceive.  One  smeU  of  you  is  sufficient.  If 
he  passes  you,  you  are  all  right.  Feeling,  that 
nose  of  his  is  a  living  wonder,  it  is  as  deUcate 
in  its  sense  of  touch  as  the  tips  of  your  fingers  ; 
but,  in  feeling,  the  horse  has  undergone  a 
special  development  of  nerves  which  has  helped 
in  the  survival  of  his  species.  Sensitive  to  the 
least  prick,  yet  if  wounded  in  the  most  horrible 
manner  or  with  even  a  broken  limb,  the  nerves 
of  the  horse  so  quickly  cease  to  telegraph  the 
damage  to  the  brain,  that  he  is  able  to  get 
away  from  the  danger  spot  at  f uU  speed,  and  to 
sustain  a  gallop  to  safety  in  the  herd  maybe  of 

104 


(a) 


Marpegorby   and    Musket 
(«)     First    Introduction  (6)     "What's   vour    little    game?' 


[To  face  page  10-i 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

many  miles  in  a  condition  which  is  almost 
unbeUevable.  No  doubt  this  capacity  for 
immense  and  sustained  effort,  when  grievously 
maimed,  has  stood  the  horse's  ancestors  in 
good  stead  in  the  far-away  days  when  they 
ran  wild,  the  prey  of  whatever  carnivora  could 
catch  them. 

No,  the  horse  is  not  by  any  means  stupid. 
None  of  the  higher  mammalia  are  stupid. 
In  all  matters  affecting  their  existence,  the 
quality  of  their  brain  power  is  probably  as 
fine  as  your  own.  The  brains  of  different 
species,  in  the  course  of  evolution,  have  been 
developed  in  different  directions.  In  the  case 
of  each  species  its  senses  and  brain  have  been 
developed  to  extreme  brilUancy  of  action,  in 
all  matters  vital  to  its  existence,  by  the  con- 
tinual excision  of  the  individuals  amongst  its 
ancestors  who  have  been  the  less  fit.  The 
weaker  and  less  artful  in  attack ;  the  less 
cunning  in  defence  ;  the  less  knowledgeable  in 
matters  of  food,  have  been  the  earlier  cut  off 
in  life,  and  have  had  fewer  opportunities  of 
propagating  their  kind.  In  a  state  of  nature, 
it  is  the  brainier  individuals,  who,  on  the  long 
average,  leave  the  more  descendants.  Those 
who  have  encountered  animal  brain  work  in  a 
state  of  nature,  know  how  splendid  it  can  be. 
Tliose  who  only  know  horses,  cattle  and  sheep, 
in  small  enclosures,  cannot  even  guess  what 
it  means.     The   horse's  brain  is  all  right.     If 

105 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you  want  to    make  it  your  instrument,   you 
must  exercise  yours. 


You  have  taken  the  disciple  out  a  number 
of  times,  and  have  shown  him  many  strange 
things,  of  which,  at  their  first  aspect,  he  was 
apprehensive  of  harm,  and  have  let  him  see 
that  after  all  there  was  nothing  in  any  of  these 
to  be  afraid  of.  You  have  had  recalled  to  you 
his  hereditary  instincts  and  defences.  That 
old  blackbird,  which  tumbled  out  of  the  hedge 
with  such  a  flutter  and  screech,  stirred  the 
same  grey  matter  in  his  brain  which  had 
flashed  into  action  when  that  desert  lion  had 
sprung  at,  and  missed,  his  ancestor  of  a  miUion 
generations  ago.  The  disciple  made  a  most 
splendidiferous  shy  right  across  the  road,  and, 
if  you  had  not  been  something  of  a  horseman, 
you  would  have  been  off  that  trip.  It  would 
have  taken  more  than  a  lion  to  have  got  the 
disciple  that  time.  What  is  a  shy  ?  It  is  a 
perfectly  natural  and  proper  defence — not  a 
fault  to  be  punished — and  if  it  had  not  been 
practised  successfully  myriads  of  times  by  the 
disciple's  direct  ancestors,  your  particular 
disciple  would  not  then  be  between  your  legs. 

(The  Nightmare. — Enter  the  riding  lad  on  a 
young  and  nervous  horse.  Blackbird,  screaming, 
tumbles    out    of    hedge.     Horse    shies    badly    and 

106 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

ridiiig  lad,  taken  by  surprise,  is  nearly  dismounted. 
Recovers  himself  with  difficulty.  Has  lost  his 
temper,  swears  at  horse  and  hits  him  across  the 
head  again  and  again.  Saws  at  his  mouth  and 
pulls  him  up.  To  that  wretched  animal  every  black- 
bird is  followed  by  a  beating.  Every  blackbird 
becomes  a  potential  lion,  and  the  horse  a  confirmed 
shyer.) 

What  to  do  ?  Turn  him  to  the  place  where 
the  blackbird  came  out — he  has  got  his  eye  on 
it — ^and  jeer  at  and  mock  him.  A  horse  knows 
all  about  being  ridiculed  and  just  hates  it. 
Tell  him  what  a  double-dyed  idiot  he  has  been. 
It  isn't  true — ^like  the  other  illusions  you 
practise  on  him — but  he  will  believe  you.  You 
haven't  hit  him,  and  obviously  there  is  nothing 
to  fear  on  that  score,  so  that  when  the  next 
blackbird  comes  out  he  won't  shy  so  far,  for 
his  lightning-like  brain  will  remember  the  way 
you  chaffed  him.  Jeer  at  him  again  every- 
time  a  blackbird  comes  out,  or  whenever  he 
shies  at  anything  else.  He  will  soon  connect 
the  jeering  with  the  shying  and  will  drop  it ; 
nothing  is  hurting  him,  and  he  hates  being 
mocked. 

Always  talk  to  your  horse.  Direct  him  by 
the  voice  as  much  as  by  the  pull  on  the  rein. 
The  horse  loves  your  voice  and  learns  to  attend 
to  it  in  a  remarkable  way.  Thus,  when  you 
want  him  to  increase  his  pace,  say  to  him 
successively      "  walk,"      "  trot,"      "  canter," 

107 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

"  gallop  " — ^he  will  very  soon  recognise  what 
is  meant  by  each  word.  Decrease  his  pace 
in  the  same  way.  In  a  little  while  you  can 
dodge  him  about,  from  the  "  walk "  to  the 
"  canter,"  then  back  to  the  "  trot "  ;  then 
direct  to  the  "  gallop,"  and  back  to  the  "  walk," 
and  so  on.  When  you  want  him  to  stand  still, 
say  "  stand,"  and  when  you  want  him  to  back, 
say  "  back."  It  will  surprise  you  to  find 
what  an  interest  the  horse  takes  in  these  spoken 
directions,  and  how  keen  he  becomes  to  con- 
form to  them  quickly.  It  is  as  good  as  a  play 
to  watch  his  ears,  and  by  watching  them 
closely  you  will  get  a  good  indication  of  what 
is  passing  in  his  mind  and  what  he  is  expecting 
of  you.  When  you  get  more  advanced  with 
his  training  and  are  teaching  him  to  turn,  say 
to  him  "  Right  "  or  '*  Left."  Alter  his  gaits 
by  word,  when  you  come  to  attend  to  them, 
"Trot,"  "Pace,"  "Single-step,"  "  Spanish  Walk," 
"  Passage,"  and  so  on.  When  you  want  him 
to  jump  anything  say  "  Jump."  You  will 
delight  him  by  talking  to  him  like  this,  and 
his  pleasure  in  it  will  be  evidenced  by  the 
increasing  quickness  of  his  responses.  It 
develops  his  intelligence,  and,  by  and  by,  it 
reaUy  becomes  conversation.  One  of  the  most 
amusing  things  you  can  do  is  to  teach  a  horse 
to  "  neigh "  to  order.  It  is  not  so  difficult 
as  you  may  think,  particularly  if  the  horse  is  a 
stalUon,  and  an  Arab.      When  it  once  dawns 

108 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

upon  him  that  you  are  asking  him  to  speak, 
it  tickles  his  imagination  and  pleases  him  im- 
mensely, and  he  will  neigh  quite  readily  at 
your  word.  You  can  develop  this  faculty 
until  the  horse  really  tries  to  talk  to  you,  and 
the  modulation  and  expression  he  is  able  to 
put  into  his  conversation  is  surprising.  It  is 
worth  doing,  for  you  get  very  near  to  the 
mind  of  a  horse  this  way. 


109 


TEAINING    FOR    HIDING 
(Continued) 


CHAPTER  IX 

TRAINING  FOR  RIDING 

(Continued) 

IF  you  have  an  opportunity  take  Disciple 
as  soon  as  possible  on  common,  moor- 
land or  forest  land.  You  will  find  your 
horse's  brain  work  extraordinarily  interesting, 
if  he  has  not  been  in  such  surroundings  before. 
Leave  him  as  much  as  possible  to  his  own 
devices,  just  guiding  him  from  time  to  time 
in  the  general  direction  you  want,  and  watch 
the  ancestral  traits.  A  horse's  thoughts  pour 
through  the  channels  that  were  most  used  by 
his  wild  ancestors.  Keep  him  at  the  walk 
and  leave  him  a  loose  rein,  so  that  you  may 
take  indications  from  him,  and  not  he  from 
you.  When  he  realises  that  he  is  on  his  own, 
he  will  behave  much  as  his  ancestors  did  in 
the  same  circumstances ;  circumspectly  and 
scrutinisingly,  as  to  potential  and  hidden 
enemies  ;  questively,  as  regards  his  own  kind. 
He  will  examine  every  bush  and  clump  ol 
undergrowth  carefully,  giving  them  room  to 
be   out   of   the    "  striking   distance "    of   that 

113 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

hereditary  ancestral  lion.  In  the  narrower 
ways,  where  the  undergrowth  is  near  on  either 
side,  he  will  be  all  attention,  and  the  breaking 
of  a  stick  is  sufficient  to  startle  him.  Watch 
his  ears  and  eyes,  muscles  all  braced  and  in 
tension.  He's  all  there  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency. He  stops  for  a  moment  and  considers 
whether,  if  need  be,  his  best  chance  is  ahead, 
or  by  the  way  he  came.  Scratch  his  shoulder 
and  tell  him  it  is  all  right,  and  he  will  go  on. 
In  forest  glades  you  will  find  that,  left  to  him- 
self, he  will  make  his  trail  equidistant  from 
the  umbrage  on  either  hand,  and,  in  no  case, 
not  even  in  that  of  an  obvious  short  cut,  will 
he  ever  allow  himself  to  come  within  "  striking 
distance."  Near  cover  he  is  always  at  at- 
tention. 

His  air  of  entire  unconcern  when  he  gets 
out  into  an  open  place  is  quite  amusing,  but 
in  the  wide  open  he  will  always  keep  an  eye 
upon  any  isolated  clump  and  give  it  a  wide 
berth.  Even  our  most  domesticated  horses, 
who  for  generations  have  been  under  cover 
or  in  small  fields,  will,  even  in  the  field,  of 
which  they  have  known  every  square  foot  all 
their  Uves,  never  sleep  within  "  striking 
distance  "  of  the  wood  or  plantation  alongside. 
The  breaking  of  a  stick  in  it  at  night  is  sufficient 
to  send  them  scampering  and  snorting  to  the 
far  side  of  the  field. 

In  an  open  plain,  the  horse  wiU  always  make 

114 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

for  rising  ground  to  enable  him  to  survey  the 
country  to  look  for  all  possible  pals.  With 
ears  pricked  forward  and  nostrils  compressed, 
he  will  search  on  a  clear  and  sunht  day  to  the 
very  horizon,  and.  What  Ho  !  for  a  cheery 
neigh,  when  he  finds  them.  It's  pretty  to  see 
the  effect.  Nothing  attracts  horses  more  in- 
stantly than  the  distant  challenge  of  a  ringing 
neigh.  They  may  be  spread  over  a  field,  all 
with  heads  down,  busy  feeding.  Instantly 
every  head  is  up  seeking  for  the  source  of  the 
sound.  They  run  together,  each  asking  the 
other  as  to  who  this  is.  Every  movement  is. 
watched  by  your  nag,  his  nostrils  trembling: 
in  the  surdight  with  excitement.  If  Disciple 
has  the  luck  to  be  a  stallion,  the  thrills  on 
either  side  are  multipHed  a  thousandfold,  and 
his  calls  are  perfectly  splendid  to  listen  to. 
Then  the  distant  reply  comes,  thrilling  Disciple 
to  the  roots  of  his  being.  He  screams  back, 
\\dth  a  hoarse  grunt  at  the  end  of  each  scream, 
stamps  his  foreleg  and  swings  from  side  to 
side,  but  always  with  his  head  to  the  find. 
The  mares,  with  manes  flowing  and  tails  like 
flags — you  can  always  tell  them  by  this 
response — dash  hither  and  thither,  making 
beheve  they  are  seeking  the  protection  of  the 
one  or  two  old  geldings,  their  mates.  The 
staUion's  scream  and  roar,  as  Job  said,  is  as 
nothing  else  in  creation,  and  it  makes  the  old 
geldings  peevish  and  surly,  so  when  their  giddy 

115 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

companions,  decked  with  this  fancy  dress  of 
mane  and  tail,  come  prancing  up  to  them,  the 
dames  are  met  with  open  mouths  and  lashing 
heels.  Greldings  of  all  kinds  resent  frivohties 
in  which  they  cannot  participate.  But  the 
mares  don't  care  a  continental  D,  they  chaff 
the  old  geldings  and  prance  all  the  more  while 
Disciple  roars  to  them  all  the  love  stories  he 
can  think  of.  Well  you've  waked  up  the 
neighbourhood,  and  half  the  farmers  in  the 
county  are  running  to  see  what's  the  matter  ; 
so  curb  the  amatory  and  extremely  ornamental 
frivolling  of  Disciple,  and  come  and  study 
natural  history  once  more. 

Vigilance  against  enemies  is  the  first  con- 
cern of  the  horse  in  the  wild,  food  the  next, 
and  quest  of  his  kind  the  third.  In  this 
country  the  food  of  a  horse  is  all  over  the 
floor  and  he  feeds  where  he  stops.  Much 
therefore  is  not  to  be  learned  here  of  the  horse's 
skiU  in  foraging  and  discrimination  in  feeding 
upon  what  he  finds,  and  only  in  an  elementary 
way  can  one  study  him  in  the  quest  of  his 
kind.  In  the  wild,  the  horse  studies  all  spoors. 
Those  of  the  elephant,  the  buffalo,  the  Hon, 
tiger,  panther,  bear  and  wolf,  amongst  his 
attackers,  with  care;  mainly  to  learn  date  of 
the  track  and  probable  vicinity  of  the  enemy. 
He  takes  stock  of  the  spoor  of  his  cousins,  the 
zebra  and  wild  ass,  with  general  interest ;  but 
of  that  of  his  own  kind  he  makes  the  most 

116 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

searching  scrutiny,  deducing  date,  direction, 
sex  and  individuals  with  accuracy. 

On  EngUsh  roads  there  is  nothing  ot  interest 
to  be  got,  but  on  moorland  and  in  forest 
quite  informing  incidents  are  possible.  With 
nothing  in  sight,  your  horse  walking  along  may 
suddenly  stop  dead,  make  a  big  inhalation 
or  two,  put  his  head  down  and  move  about 
sniffing  at  the  ground.  Leave  him  alone  and 
see  what  he  does.  He  does  not  attempt  to 
touch  the  herbage,  but  moves  about  with  his 
head  on  the  ground,  sniffing.  He  paws  a 
little  with  a  foreleg.  If  he  gets  a  good  and 
recent  whiff,  he  will  turn  it  over  in  his  mind, 
shaking  his  head  up  and  down  a  little.  If  he 
decides  that  it  is  a  mare,  up  will  go  his  head, 
and  that  lip  will  curl  over  his  nose,  the  head 
stretched  out  sideways,  first  on  one  side,  and 
then  on  the  other. 

Then  he  will  try  to  continue  the  track  by 
scent,  and,  if  on  soft  ground  or  dust  he  sees 
the  footprints,  he  will  institute  a  close  inspec- 
tion. If  he  gets  another  stimulating  whiff, 
there  is  more  inhalation  and  nose  curUng. 
Let  him  go  along,  and  on  a  strong  scent  he 
will  move  fairly  quickly,  every  nov^  and  then 
putting  his  nose  to  the  ground  to  keep  check. 
He's  looking  out  for  droppings  and  as  Hkely 
as  not  he  will  come  across  them.  As  soon 
as  he  sees  them,  he  will  hasten  to  them  and 
conduct  a  complete  inquest,  with  much  nose- 

I  117 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

curling  and  inhalation.  Here  he  comes  to 
quite  definite  conclusions,  and  you  can  almost 
tell,  by  the  way  he  heads  off,  whether  he  has 
decided  that  it  is  a  colt  or  a  mare.  If  the  latter, 
he  will  pause  less  over  the  droppings  and  head 
off  quicker.  If  they  are  quite  fresh,  he  won't 
go  far  before  giving  a  neigh,  because  he  knows 
that  his  voice  will  probably  carry  to  where 
the  mare  is.  He  will  try  two  or  three  times, 
and  will  divide  his  attention  between  sniffing 
the  track  and  listening  for  an  answer.  The 
scent  is  becoming  stronger,  he  is  going  at  a 
good  pace,  and  is  scanning  the  horizon  and 
slopes  most  carefully.  He  is  getting  impatient, 
so  up  goes  the  call  again,  and  then  again  ;  and 
almost  certainly  in  a  little  time  the  far  off 
answer  will  come. 

Just  look  at  Disciple's  excitement  !  He 
rears  and  throws  his  forelegs  out.  He  shouts, 
with  that  double-bass  roar  at  the  end.  Every 
nerve  is  quivering.  He  arches  his  neck  and 
plunges  forward.  No  sniffing  of  tracks  now. 
He  is  aU  eyes  and  ears  ;  every  nerve  ahght ; 
every  muscle  braced.  Doesn't  he  look 
splendid,  and  everything  that  a  horse  ought 
to  be  ! 

Still  nothing  is  seen.  The  answering  neigh 
had  come  from  far  down  the  mists  of  the  vaUey, 
and  only  the  crests  of  the  rolling  foreground 
are  visible.  Another  faint  neigh  comes,  and 
Disciple  is  up  in  the  air  again  with  a  roar. 

118 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Gad,  what  a  voice  Disciple  has  got !    It  vibrates 
his  whole  body,  and  you  as  well ! 

Suddenly  against  the  opalescent  sunlit  mist, 
maybe  a  mile  away,  a  string  of  five  tiny  ghostly 
figures  appear,  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from 
the  mist,  racing  for  all  they  are  worth ;  manes 
flying,  tails  high  over  their  backs,  plunging 
and  kicking  in  their  strides.  Hold  on  now  ! 
for  Disciple  is  exploding  with  excitement  and 
grunts.  For  the  moment  he  is  far  too  excited 
to  neigh — ^he  is  taking  in  the  vision.  You 
caught  a  glimpse  of  them  as  they  rose  extended 
over  the  crest  of  a  roll ;  now  they  swing  round 
and  dive  into  the  mist  of  a  hollow.  When  the 
vision  appeared.  Disciple  was  as  turned  to 
stone,  not  a  flicker  or  a  quiver  of  a  muscle — 
looking,  looking,  as  if  his  eyeballs  would  burst. 
Then  the  little  galloping  figures  vanish  in  the 
mist.  With  a  mighty  roar  uprises  Disciple  in 
protest,  and  is  ofl.  Look  where  you  are  going, 
for  he  is  in  earnest  and  he  takes  some  holding 
in.  He  is  going  to  get  to  those  flyers,  or  will 
perish  in  the  attempt.  And  lo,  as  you  make 
a  rise  over  the  crest,  there  they  are  below 
racing  up  out  of  the  valley,  their  figures  sil- 
houetted against  the  gleaming  mist.  Along 
they  come,  ears  like  lancets,  manes  and  tails 
awave,  squeaUng  and  kicking  high  in  the  air 
and  at  each  other.  Disciple  is  taken  aback, 
and  himself  pulls  up  to  meet  the  onset ;  and 
here  they  are,  as  nice  a  looking  lot  of  big  polo 

119 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

ponies  as  were  ever  seen.  Snorting  and  blow- 
ing, steaming  and  still  squealing,  they  wheel 
round,  pull  up  at  twenty  yards,  and  each  faces 
Disciple,  who,  not  to  be  outdone  in  politeness, 
stamps  forward  a  pace  or  two,  shakes  his  head 
at  each,  and  neighs  his  very  warm  salutes. 

Three  fillies  and  a  couple  of  geldings,  four 
and  five  year  olds,  and  as  full  of  fire  and  devilry 
on  a  glorious  spring  morning  as  any  young 
things  can  be.  The  geldings  are  not  as  pleased 
to  see  Disciple  as  the  filHes,  and  with  drawn- 
back  ears  shake  their  heads  at  him,  spitefully. 
A  five-year-old  mare  is  obviously  the  lady  who 
answered  his  call.  From  behind  the  others 
she  now  neighs  gently  an  invitation  to  him  to 
make  her  closer  acquaintance,  and,  a  Httle 
later,  works  round  the  edge  of  the  group  with 
the  brazen  intention  of  pubhcly  proclaiming 
her  love ;  which  manoeuvre,  being  detected 
in  time  by  that  jealous  sleuth  of  a  gelding,  he 
darts  at  her  and  leaves  fine  marks  of  his  teeth 
in  her  shoulder.  It  was  a  good  and  healthy 
bite,  but  the  mare,  spirting  as  she  turns  back, 
gets  one  in  with  her  hinds  and  can  fairly  claim 
quits.  She  brings  up  momentarily  behind  the 
other  two  mares,  who  are  gazing  wide-eyed  at 
Disciple,  in  maidenly  embarrassment  at  his 
tempestuous  excitement  and  unseemly  carry- 
ings on,  then  dashes  on,  thinking  to  get  round 
the  other  wing,  only  to  run  right  into  the  wide- 
open  jaws  of  the  other  gelding,  who  happens  to 

120 


I.     Ro-Akbar,    walking   on    his    hind    legs 
II     Shaking    hands 


ITo  face  page  120 


I.     Rotunda  I  and   Rotunda  II,  by  Rohan  ex  Fatima 
II.     In  the   Bols   de   Boulogne 


[To  face  page  121 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

be  her  special  guardian  and  pal.  Look  at  the 
vicious  way  he  goes  for  her.  Ears  back  hard 
down  on  his  neck,  whites  of  eyes  gleaming,  and 
snap,  snap,  snap  of  those  savage  teeth.  That 
stopped  her  ;  and  now  he  is  going  to  have  a  go 
at  Disciple.  He  just  gives  one  look  over  his 
quarter  to  get  Disciple's  bearing,  gives  one  last 
vicious  snap  at  the  mare,  and  is  round  in  a 
flash  with  a  bound,  all  eyes  and  teeth  for  you 
or  Disciple,  it  doesn't  matter  which. 

It  was  good  for  you  that,  knowing  you  might 
have  adventures,  you  had  a  lash  on  your  hunt- 
ing crop,  so  you  get  him  on  the  neck  Hke  a 
crack  from  a  rifle.  Well  done  !  or  he  would 
have  got  you  by  the  thigh.  He  is  up  in  the  air, 
and  so  is  Disciple,  and  for  full  ten  seconds  they 
strike  at  each  other  with  their  fore  feet  like 
professional  boxers.  You  get  another  into 
the  gelding,  the  lash  snapping  round  his  hind 
legs.  You  hurt  him,  and,  on  the  instant,  he 
turns  round  his  rump,  and  humps  himself 
together,  with  the  intention  of  planting  his 
heels  on  Disciple's  chest.  But  Disciple  is  not 
having  any  that  way.  Disciple  has  risen  before 
the  gelding  lashes  out,  gets  one  foreleg  over  his 
back,  bends  down  and  buries  his  teeth  well 
into  the  gelding's  buttock.  It's  a  proper  good 
grip,  and  Disciple  can  chew  and  does  chew, 
hard.  That's  enough ;  it's  a  deuced  tender 
place  when  Disciple  has  done  ;  and,  squeaUng 
and  kicking,  the  gelding  makes  for  the  mares, 

121 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

who  have  watched  the  tussle  with  excited 
interest.  With  ears  laid  down  hard  along 
his  neck  and  open  mouth,  he  goes  straight 
for  the  cause  of  the  trouble,  and  that  faithless 
little  lady,  preferring  a  whole  skin  to  meeting 
him  in  his  anger,  scampers  lightly  away. 

It  only  needs  a  crack  of  the  whip  for  the 
whole  string  to  race  off,  manes  and  tails  flying, 
in  just  as  great  a  hurry  to  get  away  as  they 
had  been  to  come.  Soon  they  disappear  in  the 
mist  in  the  hollow,  and  the  last  Disciple  sees 
of  them  is  as  they  rise,  still  plunging  and  kicking 
over  the  crest  where  he  had  first  caught  sight 
of  them.  Disciple  is  quite  quiet,  he  stands 
at  gaze,  watching  with  a  twitching  nose ;  and, 
as  the  last  of  the  ghostly  little  figures  vanishes 
into  nothingness,  he  gives  just  one  big  parting 
neigh,  and  then  looks  round  at  you  with  that 
dark  soft  eye  of  his  to  ask  "  What  next  ?  " 

And  on  the  way  home  Disciple  ponders  over 
that  last  beautiful  mouthful  for  quite  a  while, 
and  grins  as  he  remembers  the  mark  he  has 
left.  You  can  see  that  he  is  thinking  of  the 
little  scrap,  by  the  way  he  throws  up  his  head 
and  momentarily  arches  his  neck,  and  by  the 
proud  glance  of  his  eye.  He  is  thinking  of  you 
too  in  its  connection,  for  he  looks  round  at  you 
— farticeps  criminis — quite  a  number  of 
times  ;  and  once  gives  a  short  sharp  Httle  neigh, 
and  in  return  you  clap  him  on  the  neck  and 
tell  him  he's  a  bally  fine  boxer.     All  the  way 

122 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

home  he  is  exceedingly  pleased  with  himself, 
and  with  you.  The  httle  scrap  has  brought 
a  new  bond  of  union  between  you.  When 
you  dismount  he  swings  round  and  rubs  his 
head  hard  against  your  shoulders.  Pure 
affection. 


123 


TEAINING    FOR    RIDING 

{Continued) 


CHAPTER  X 

TRAINING  FOR  RIDING 

(Continued) 

IN  the  forest  it  is  much  easier  to  pick  up 
the  tracks  of  ponies  and  horses  running 
loose.  Take  any  ride  and  let  Disciple 
wander  along  with  a  loose  rein.  He  will  make 
various  examinations — some  a  little  interesting 
and  some  dismissed  with  indifference.  He 
realises  you  have  put  him  again  on  the  quest, 
and  with  zest  lends  himself  to  the  game.  Pull 
him  up  at  the  cross  rides,  and  let  him  make 
his  own  selection.  He  will  cast  about  un- 
decided, sniffing  the  ground,  and  will  look  up 
first  one  ride,  and  then  the  other,  and,  if  there's 
nothing  doing,  will  turn  his  eye  round  to  you 
for  guidance. 

Go  along  and  let  him  do  the  hunting.  He 
makes  all  kinds  of  stoppages,  often  in  places 
where  you  can  see  nothing  to  attract ;  but  if 
he  spends  time,  you  may  be  sure  he  has  got  a 
whiff  of  something  worth  consideration.  If  he 
decides  it's  not  worth  while,  on  he  goes. 

At    last,    after    many    disappointments,    he 

127 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

strikes  something  quite  good.  He  stops  dead, 
snuffs  and  snorts  and  scrapes  at  it  with  his 
foreleg.  Another  deep  snuff,  then  up  goes 
his  head  with  the  curled-over  Up.  Repeated 
two  or  three  times,  and,  following  up  a  line 
diagonal  to  the  ride  and  leading  off  it,  the 
investigation  is  closed  with  a  sharp  neigh  and 
a  confident  plunge  into  the  brushwood.  He 
has  got  on  to  quite  fresh  spoor,  and,  if  you 
watch  carefully,  you  can  see  traces  of  it  in 
bruised  grass  and  newly-shifted  leaves. 

He  knows  he  is  all  right  now,  and  moves 
forward  at  quite  a  fast  walking  pace.  You 
come  to  a  sandy  patch,  and  can  see  by  the 
superimposed  footprints  and  their  sizes,  that 
there  are  at  least  five  or  six  in  the  string,  all 
fairly  small  ponies.  Disciple  bends  down  for 
a  sniff,  but  doesn't  waste  time.  In  some 
occult  manner  he  knows  they  are  a  good  way 
oS  yet,  so  hurries  along.  No  use  calUng  just 
yet.  Then  you  come  across  a  place  where 
they  had  stopped  to  feed  a  little,  and  can  see 
the  cropped  grass  and  a  few  tufts  pulled  up. 
The  tufts  are  quite  fresh.  A  little  further  on, 
as  the  ponies  moved  off  after  their  feed,  there 
are  droppings.  Disciple  stops  for  details,  and 
each  one  is  examined.  He  comes  to  quick 
decisions,  and  is  off  again  at  that  fast  walk 
ears  well  pricked  in  front. 

All  at  once  he  starts  violently,  and  pulls  up 
sharp.     He  has  heard  something  long  before 

128 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you.  You  calm  him,  but  he  is  quite  agitated 
about  it,  whatever  it  may  be.  You  still  don't 
hear  anything,  but  he  does,  and  has  directed 
his  pricked  ears  to  your  left,  where  he  knows 
the  danger  lies.  He  is  in  cover,  and  his 
hereditary  instincts  are  aroused.  He  has  not 
become  sufficiently  accustomed  to  forest  life 
to  be  educated  to  the  fact  that  no  real  dangers 
lurk  for  horses  here.  Tlie  myriad  escapes  of 
all  those  far-away  ancestors,  right  down  to  the 
Uttle  hipparion,  have  left  this  surviving  descen- 
dent  amply  equipped  with  all  the  hereditary 
defences  that  not  only  kept  the  hne  unbroken, 
but  evolved  the  splendid  alarm  apparatus  of 
the  horse's  ear,  mth  the  pivots  automatically 
and  instantaneously  directing  the  ears  to  the 
danger,  whatever  its  situation,  without  inter- 
fering with  the  direction  of  the  horse's  flight. 
In  a  flight  for  life,  this  evolved  provision  means 
many  seconds  gained,  where  seconds  count  for 
life  or  death.  Disciple  is  worth  observing  and 
studying  as  a  product  of  evolution,  and  of  the 
survival  of  the  flttest. 

Now  even  you  can  hear  something ;  the 
snapping  of  twigs  and  little  sticks ;  the  hurried 
rush  of  tiny  feet  through  bracken  ;  and  away 
in  the  opening,  dark  against  the  sky,  appears 
a  greyish  red  arch  of  palpitating  living  things. 
It  is  a  herd  of  startled  deer  ;  does  and  fawns 
first,  and  stags  behind.  There  is  high  bracken 
on  the  raised  sides  of  the  sunk  grass  track  you 

129 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

are  following,  and,  in  the  head-long  rush,  the 
leaders  clear  the  depression  in  most  magnifi- 
cent leaps.  What  the  leader  jumps  over,  all 
the  rest  jump  over.  There  must  be  forty 
or  fifty  at  least ;  and,  as  the  bulk  of  the  herd 
come  on  and  leap  together,  you  get  that  weird 
effect  of  the  arch  against  the  sky  with  the 
dayhght  showing  below.  In  three  seconds  it 
is  over,  and  the  faint  and  fainter  snapping  is  all 
that  remains. 

Disciple  was  quite  interested,  and  gave  a 
snort  as  they  vanished.  The  very  moment 
he  saw  them,  his  nerve  tension  was  released, 
for  he  instantljT^  realised  that  they  were  not  of 
the  kind  to  hurt  horses.  How  this  knowledge 
so  suddenly  came  to  him  wants  a  little  thinking 
over,  for  he  had  never  seen  deer  before  in  his 
life.  Clearly  the  information  was  instinctive 
and  detailed,  for  it  was  quite  definite  and 
dependable  as  far  as  he  was  concerned. 

The  transition  from  this  interruption  to  the 
resumption  of  the  quest  is  not  immediate. 
You  do  not  prompt  him.  He  is  still  standing 
on  the  spot  where  he  so  suddenly  pulled  up. 
He  sniffs  in  the  air,  as  though  a  waft  of  the 
scent  of  the  deer  has  come  to  him,  and  he  is  still 
intently  listening,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  place 
where  he  last  saw  them.  Then  he  moves  a 
few  paces  forward,  as  though  to  follow  them, 
and  stops  again,  ears  pricked,  still  listening. 
He  gives  a  snort  and  a  little  bound,  and,  with 

130 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

his  head  half-turned,  points  his  ears  again. 
It  is  plain  he  has  heard  the  last  of  them,  for 
now  he  turns  his  head  to  the  left,  gives  you  a 
glance,  and  resumes  his  walk.  He  makes  a 
dozen  paces,  then  remembers  the  quest,  stops, 
and  puts  down  his  head  to  pick  up  the  scent. 
As  he  passes  the  spot  of  the  deer-leap  he  halts 
in  his  stride  and  sniffs  the  air,  to  the  left  and 
to  the  right,  goes  on,  and  again  bends  down  to 
pick  up  the  pony  scent.  After  this  he  resumes 
his  fast  walk  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 
The  track  leads  to  a  Httle  green  dell,  open  to 
the  sky;  and  here  the  ponies,  spreading  out, 
had  fed  for  a  little,  and  there  are  more  drop- 
pings and  the  usual  inquest.  Something  must 
have  startled  them,  for  you  can  see,  from  the 
laid  grass  further  on,  that  they  had  rushed 
together,  and  scampered  in  line  after  their 
leader,  who  had  left  the  track  altogether  and 
plunged  into  the  undergrowth  at  the  side. 
The  laid  Hnes  in  the  lush  spring  grass  makes 
this  plain  to  you,  and  evidently  to  Disciple, 
for  he  follows  without  hesitation;  and  in  his 
eagerness  rushes  you  through  some  nut  bushes, 
and  you  have  to  put  up  your  hands  to  save 
your  face.  Now  the  ground  slopes  away 
rapidly.  It  gets  bare  under  some  beeches, 
and  at  the  bottom  is  a  trickhng  stream  almost 
choked  with  last  autumn's  leaves,  which  the 
winter  winds  have  blown  into  this  resting 
place.     The  thick  mass  of  withered  red  leaves, 

131 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

newly  turned  up,  show  where  the  ponies  had 
crossed  the  stream,  and  Disciple  on  the  slope 
breaks  into  a  canter  and  jumps  wide  with  a 
mighty  leap,  and  on  the  other  side  you  have  to 
pull  him  back  into  his  walk. 

There  is  nothing  like  the  soHtary  ride,  to  get 
to  know  your  horse  to  his  core.  A  quest  such 
as  this  shows  you  his  manner  of  thought,  and 
the  things  that  direct  him.  You  learn  the 
world  as  it  looks  to  a  horse ;  learn  what  he 
notices,  what  attracts  him,  what  he  disregards 
and  what  he  dislikes.  When  you  get  really 
skilled  in  this  outlook,  the  interest  of  the  soH- 
tary ride  becomes  absorbing.  Every  incident 
tells  you  something  new,  something  fresh ; 
gives  you  weird  facts  ^o  ponder  over.  Learn 
this  horse-world  from  the  different  points  of 
view  of  the  mare,  gelding,  and  staUion.  They 
are  quite  distinct.  Each  has  a  different  out- 
look, and  is  actuated  by  differing  stimuh,  or 
differently  by  the  same  stimuli.  The  con- 
trasts are  a  study  in  themselves  ;  are  especially 
curious  between  the  entire  and  the  gelding  : 
more  curious  still  in  a  hybrid — the  mule.  But 
the  staUion  is  the  horse  to  ride  for  true  com- 
radeship, for  multiplicity  of  interest,  and  for 
the  deepest  insight  into  the  working  of  the 
equine  mind.     Try  it  and  see. 

At  the  end  of  his  rush  Disciple  examines 
his  ground,  which  is  still  pretty  bare  under 
the  beeches ;  catches  sight  of  the  hoof  marks 

132 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  drops  his  head  for  a  sniff.  It's  all  right, 
so  again  the  quick  walk.  For  a  full  mile  he 
tracks  the  wanderings  of  the  little  herd,  through 
underwood,  along  a  broad  ride,  then  along  a 
narrow  winding  track  under  the  trees,  and 
across  another  little  brook.  One  incident 
causes  a  short  delay.  The  ponies  had  crossed 
another  horse  track,  apparently,  from  the  trail 
of  the  grass,  quite  recent.  Disciple  spots  it 
and  stops  to  smell  the  ground  for  at  least  half 
a  minute.  Then,  having  reached  his  conclusion 
with  just  a  glance  along  the  other  track  and  a 
shake  of  the  head,  without  further  ado  he 
dismisses  it,  and  goes  on. 

His  pace  quickens,  and  he  is  inclined  now 
and  then  to  break  into  a  trot  which  you  repress, 
but  he  is  getting  hot  on  the  scent,  and,  at  the 
third  check,  he  throws  up  his  head,  and  gives 
vent  to  a  half-suppressed  neigh.  They  are  not 
far  off  now,  and  he  knows  it.  He  carries  his 
head  high,  peers  eagerly  to  right  and  to  left, 
with  ears  pricked  to  catch  the  slightest  sound. 
He  is  getting  quite  excited,  and  tries  to  break 
again.  He  grunts  with  impatience,  and  is 
puUing  quite  hard  on  the  bit.  Just  ahead 
you  are  coming  to  another  of  these  grassy 
Uttle  dells,  and,  as  you  enter  it,  he  is  overcome 
by  his  feehngs  and  lets  go  such  a  full-throated 
roar  that  it  echoes  and  re-echoes  all  around ; 
and  he  is  himself  a  little  startled  at  the  result. 
He  stops  still  and  neighs  again,  loud  and  long; 

K  133 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

strikes  out  with  a  foreleg  and  begins  to  prance, 
arching  his  neck  and  champing  at  the  bit, 
wliich  is  covered  with  foam.  He  swings  him- 
self quite  round,  prancing ;  throws  his  head 
about,  and  comes  again  to  a  dead  stop.  He 
stands  rigid,  looking  ahead  with  a  most  pierc- 
ing gaze ;  bit  quite  still,  but  muscles  of  his 
mouth  twitching  spasmodically.  He  hears 
something,  for  his  ears  are  hke  steel.  Then  a 
high  pitched  neigh — a  call  to  come  to  be 
obeyed — if  ever  there  was  one.  Still  he  re- 
mains rigid,  and  listening. 

Tumbhng  over  one  another,  bursting  out  of 
some  gorse  bushes  all  at  once,  appear  four 
httle  woolly-black,  long-maned,  long-tailed 
ponies  all  of  a  size,  and,  three  lengths  behind, 
a  httle  grey  donkey,  ears  plastered  down  on  his 
neck,  and  braying  hke  sin  !  They  are  a  good 
hundred  yards  away  when  they  break  into  the 
dell  all  together,  and  badly  jostle  one  another 
as  they  race  down  in  a  mass,  kicking  and 
squeahng.  It  is  quite  a  good  race,  for  when 
they  reach  Disciple  they  are  all  rushing  abreast, 
and  their  momentum  is  such  that  they  all 
but  charge  into  him ;  and,  in  the  pull  up 
and  sudden  recoil,  neddy  dashes  into  their 
rear,  cutting  short  with  the  jerk  a  bray  of  a 
pecuharly  rancorous  kind. 

Disciple  does  not  turn  a  hair,  but  if  ever  a 
horse  laughed  he  is  doing  so  now.  After  all 
his  trouble  it  results  in  this  !     As  they  spring 

134 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

back,  the  four  little  ponies  form  a  semicircle 
in  front  of  him,  and  the   neddy  plays   clown 
at  the  rear.     For  a   moment  they   stand  and 
gaze  at  this  big  horse  who  had  called  them — 
what   for,    goodness  only    knows — then  shake 
their  manes  and  tails,  and  all  stretch  out  their 
heads    towards    him,     sniffing    and    blowing. 
Disciple    breathes    a    little    hard,    but    keeps 
perfectly  quiet;    so    quiet   that   they    are    en- 
couraged to  come  a  little  closer,  and  a  little 
closer    still.     Now    all    their    little    heads    are 
close  together,  and  their  noses   almost  touch 
as  they  sniff  and  puff.     Each  egging  on  the 
other,  they  press  forward,  just  an  inch  at  a 
time,  to  get  a  sniff  and  a  touch  of  the  great 
horse's  nose,  which  he  stretches  down  to  meet 
them.     Then  oh  !  such  a  snuffing  and  blowing  ! 
It   begins   with   restraint   and   moderation   on 
both  sides  ;  just  little  smells  at  a  few  inches 
distance ;    gets    animated   with    big   and   long 
drawn   out    smells,    Disciple's    audible    above 
the   rest ;   pushful   smells,    with   short   grunts, 
almost  barks,   from  Disciple  ;    the  excitement 
rises  to  snorts  and  squeaks,  with  a  vehement 
rubbing      of      noses,       when — Explosion !     A 
devastating  roar  from  Disciple,  with  an  instant 
strike   out   of  his  foreleg,   at   which   the  four 
little  ponies,  perfectly  paralyzed,  tumble   over 
backwards,    completely     upsetting    neddy     on 
to  the  ground,  who  had  been  stretching  to  get 
in  a  long  distance  smell  over  their  backs. 

135 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

It's  over  in  a  second  ;  Disciple  stands  quiet, 
and  the  little  ponies  recover  themselves,   and 
reform    their    semicircle    two    or    three    yards 
away.     They   shake   their   pretty   heads,    give 
a  squeal  or  two,  and  then,  one  by  one,  stretch 
out   their   noses    once   more.     Then   one   puts 
his  ears  back  and  stands  aloof  :   the  gelding 
of  the  party.     Neddy,  being  of  the  male  per- 
suasion, also  stands  aloof.     So  the  next  time 
only  three  come  up,  a  little  timidly,  remember- 
ing that  roar  and  the  Hghtning-like  stroke  of 
the    foot.     Disciple    pokes    out    his    nose    en- 
couragingly,   and,    with    a    whimpering    neigh 
or  two,  invites  their  confidence.     Seeing  that 
they  hesitate,   he   even   advances  a   step   and 
gives  the  little  neigh  again.      He  knows  they 
are  ladies,  and  assures  them,  as  a  gentleman, 
that  he  is   prepared  to  receive   them  politely. 
They  look  at  one   another,  toss   their  manes 
and  with  mutual    assent  move  a  little  closer. 
Disciple   puts    his   great    head  down  to   meet 
them,  and  his  nostrils   move  in  the  tenderest 
snufEe  of  a  call.     The  one  he  more  particularly 
looks  at,  simply  cannot   resist  him  and  goes  up 
quite  bravely;  and  the  two  others,  not  to  be 
outdone,  follow  up  and  the  four  noses  all  meet 
at  the  same  time.     Snuffles  and  smells  ;  pushes 
and   withdrawals ;    a   little   excitement ;  more 
excitement  ;    and    at    last    a    squeal,   not    a 
roar   this    time,    from    Disciple  ;    and  just    a 
stamp  of  the  foot.     This  time  they    are   not 

136 


Sanderling,  with  chestnut  filly  Marsanda,   by   Marzouk,    in    1907 


Marsanda,  first  chestnut,  then  a  roan,   and,    in    1917,   finally  grey 

[To  face  page  13& 


THE    USE    01     THE    TEAINING    HEADSTALL 


Marsanda  and    Exmarsa  with   training   headstall 


r-m^i^mm^^- 


"Rohan's    Last   Gift"   with   training    headstall 


[To  face  page  137 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

frightened  at    all,     and     only    draw    back    a 
little. 

Disciple  steps  up  to  them,  and  the  nose 
rubbing  is  resumed  for  a  little.  The  gelding 
and  the  donkey  stand  sulkily  away,  with  ears 
half  cocked,  looking  extremely  dissatisfied  and 
out  of  it.  Then  Disciple  comes  half  a  pace 
forward,  gives  a  smell  at  the  neck  of  the  little 
lady  who  so  perkily  came  up  to  him,  and 
scrapes  it  two  or  three  times  with  his  teeth. 
She  not  only  approves,  but  herself  advances 
a  pace  to  touch  his  neck  with  her  lips,  so  that 
he  continues  his  scraping  on  her  wither.  He 
gnaws  hard,  and  she  seeks  his  shoulder  to 
return  the  compliment ;  whereupon  he  opens 
his  mouth  and  bites,  not  too  hard,  on  her  back. 
Bites  again  and  again.  She  winces  and  gives 
to  him,  but  does  not  move  away.  He  bites 
more  excitedly,  but  still  not  to  hurt,  and  moves 
down  to  her  flank.  Its  a  hberty,  and  tickles 
her,  and  she  gives  him  a  little  bite  on  the 
shoulder  herself.  But  she  does  not  turn  away 
from  him.  On  the  contrary,  she  moves  her 
quarter  in  to  him  so  that  he  grabs  her,  gently 
enough,  by  the  thigh  and  playfully  chews  her, 
grunting  and  snorting  the  while.  This,  how- 
ever, is  just  a  bit  too  much  for  her  maiden 
modesty,  so  she  lashes  out.  He  does  it  again, 
and  she  takes  to  her  heels  and  bolts.  He 
looks  after  her  and  makes  at  first  as  though  he 
would   follow,    but   his   attention   is   suddenly 

137 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

called  to  the  fact  that  the  other  two  little 
ladies,  piqued  by  his  neglect,  are  browsing 
with  animation  on  the  other  side  of  his  neck 
and  shoulder.  He  makes  a  dive  at  the  flank  of 
the  nearest,  and  the  action  is  so  abrupt  that 
she  rears  in  defence,  and  puts  a  forefoot  on  his 
neck,  catching  it  in  the  rein.  She  excitedly 
tries  to  release  herself,  and  you  have  to  inter- 
vene to  throw  her  off.  Loves  of  the  horses 
are  sudden  and  tumultuous,  and  courtship  is 
of  the  briefest.  The  perky  one,  having  com- 
pletely lost  her  small  heart  to  Disciple,  comes 
back  to  tell  him  so,  and  proceeds  to  do  it  as 
plainly  as  any  little  pony  can.  But  the  other 
one  who  gnawed  at  his  neck  also  finds  herself 
overcome  with  a  sudden  infatuation  for  him, 
and  palpably  indicates  her  capitulation.  To- 
gether they  get  in  front  of  Disciple,  and  push 
and  jostle  in  their  competition  for  his  kind 
attentions.  He  gnaws  at  each  impartially, 
and  each  responds  as  if  she  were  his  best 
beloved.  Ecstatic  thrills  pass  through  the 
bodies  of  the  two  little  ponies  when  in  receipt 
of  his  favours,  but  the  joy  is  intermittent,  for 
he  can  only  gnaw  one  at  a  time.  And  thus 
entered  this  Garden  of  Eden  that  monster, 
green-eyed  Jealousy.  Side  by  side,  each  has 
regarded  herself  as  the  true  fiancee  of  the 
great  horse  ;  but  now  each  is  seized  with  the 
obsession  that  the  obnoxious  presence  of  the 
other  alone  frustrates  attentions  from  Disciple 

138 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

of  the  most  piquant  and  intimate  nature  quite 
personal  to  herself.  It  is  a  wicked,  wicked 
shame,  and  it  is  her  own  special  friend  who 
thus  robs  her  of  the  fruits  of  her  self-surrender. 
With  them  to  think  is  to  act.  Each  goes 
for  the  other's  forelegs,  and  down  they  both 
drop  on  their  knees.  The  bites  really  are  not 
gentle.  The  woolly  little  beasts  are  making 
each  other's  fur  fly.  They  spring  up,  go  for 
each  other's  forelegs,  and  again  they  are  down 
on  their  knees,  grabbing  with  vigour  and  much 
mingling  of  manes.  Simultaneously  they 
arise,  rear,  and  spar  at  each  other  at  a  distance ; 
then,  with  open  mouths,  close,  each  with  her 
forelegs  round  the  other's  neck.  They  bite, 
and  bite  again,  in  earnest.  As  background  to 
this  orgy  of  mis-directed  energy  is  the  third 
little  lady,  following  the  swaying  of  the  com- 
batants with  startled  eyes,  and  still  further 
behind,  with  wondering  countenances,  the 
little  gelding  and  donkey  stand  set  for  flight, 
in  case  of  untoward  developments  coming 
their  way.  That  anything  so  little  could  be 
so  furious,  is  what  is  passing  in  Disciple's  mind, 
as  he  regards  his  lady  loves  with  pricked  ears 
and  the  most  rapt  attention.  He  is  visibly 
pained,  and  gives  a  stamp  or  two  to  show  his 
annoyance,  when,  before,  all  in  the  garden  had 
been  so  lovely.  They  go  down  and  rise  again, 
but,  faihng  to  clinch,  they  turn  round  and 
indulge   in   the    most    unholy   kicking    match. 

139 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

One  backs  and  gets  in  a  double  whack,  but  is 
forced  forward  again  by  a  lurid  rejoinder; 
then  both  lots  of  hind  legs  go  up  together,  and 
the  air  is  made  dark  with  turfs  and  hoofs. 
This  must  be  stopped,  or  the  little  ponies  will 
hurt  themselves,  so  a  disillusioned  Disciple  is 
forced  forward  and  he  gives  each  a  good  hard 
bite  on  the  rump,  and  they  are  parted,  puffing 
and  blowing  for  want  of  breath  and  heaving 
with  their  emotion.  The  other  three  start 
away  as  though  retribution  was  about  to  over- 
take them  also,  but  pull  up  on  seeing  that 
nothing  happens.  Disciple  looks  and  snorts 
his  displeasure,  first  at  one  antagonist  and 
then  at  the  other  ;  shakes  his  head,  and  in- 
dicates that  he  had  no  further  interest  in  the 
proceedings. 

You  turn  his  head  homewards,  and  he  leads 
ofi  tranquilly  without  evincing  the  least  desire 
to  linger  on  the  battlefield.  More  time  has 
been  taken  up  than  you  intended,  so  you  make 
your  way  to  the  nearest  ride  to  go  home  by 
the  shortest  road,  and  put  Disciple  into  an  easy 
ding-dong  trot.  You  must  have  gone  at 
least  half  a  mile,  when  Disciple  throws  his  ears 
back  and  starts  into  a  canter.  Lo  and  behold 
it's  the  little  ponies  galloping  after  you ! 
Disciple's  two  sweethearts  have  made  up  their 
tiff  and  are  racing  side  by  side  ;  the  third  httle 
mare  is  close  at  their  heels,  and  the  gelding 
and  donkey,  coming  on  quite  unwillingly,  are  a 

140 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

good  bit  in  the  rear.  As  the  two  scamper  up, 
manes  and  tails  waving,  they  come,  one  on 
each  side,  almost  touching  your  toes.  Dis- 
ciple's for  home,and  beyond  keeping  an  eye  on 
each  takes  no  notice  and  continues  his  stride. 
Little  ponies'  hearts  are  tender,  and  they  like 
the  big  horse.  As  they  scamper  alongside 
you  can  see  they  are  out  for  some  fun.  They 
chuck  down  their  heads  and  kick  up  their 
heels,  make  prodigious  leaps  on  the  least 
excuse,  or  with  no  excuse  at  all — feint  at 
biting  Disciple — and  sheer  round  in  pretence 
of  a  kick. 

And  thus  they  keep  up  with  you  right  to  the 
edge  of  the  Forest,  and  on  to  the  grass  land 
beyond.  It  goes  against  the  grain  to  have  to 
scare  them  off,  but  if  you  did  not  they  would 
follow  you  home.  So  you  pull  up,  and  three 
sharp  cracks  of  the  hunting  whip  send  them 
scampering  back  to  the  gelding  and  donkey, 
who  have  just  emerged  from  the  ride.  An- 
other day,  perhaps,  you  will  meet  them  again, 
as  old  friends.  It  is  worth  a  little  trouble  to 
secure  a  second  encounter,  for  they  wiU  present 
amusingly  fresh  problems,  and  give  you  quite 
a  lot  to  think  over. 


141 


TEAINING    FOR    JUMPING 


CHAPTER  XI 
TRAINING  FOR  JUMPING 

OF  all  his  achievements,  jumping  is  that 
form  of  action  which  gives  the  horse 
the  greatest  delight,  for  it  calls  into 
play,  to  their  extremity  of  attainment,  the 
best  of  his  mental  and  muscular  powers,  at 
one  and  the  same  time.  In  the  combination  of 
man  and  horse,  jumping  brings  to  the  pair 
closer  community  of  interest,  thought,  judg- 
ment, and  action,  than  in  any  other  of  the 
phases  of  their  association.  For  the  time 
being  their  mentality  is  practically  identical. 
You  and  your  best  old  hunter,  who  have  been 
through  so  much  together,  and  have  had  the 
same  experience  a  thousand  times  over  in  the 
preparation  for  and  negotiation  of  jumps, 
probably  view  any  given  jump  with  an  absolute 
identical  outlook ;  from  the  same  consider- 
ations and  conclusions,  you  two  form  precisely 
the  same  judgment  as  to  how  it  is  to  be 
negotiated  ;  man  and  horse  each  know  exactly 
what  the  other  is  going  to  do  in  the  circum- 
stances ;  and  for  a  certain  number  of  seconds 

145 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

you  and  your  horse  act  together  absolutely 
as  if  you  were  of  one  flesh — the  Centaur  in 
actual  fact.  It  is  this  unity  of  mentality  and 
action  between  man  and  horse  which  forms 
the  greatest  charm  and  attraction  of  hunting. 
In  all  the  eventualities  you  know  to  an  ounce 
what  you  are  going  to  get  out  of  the  old  horse  ; 
and  the  old  horse  knows  to  an  ounce  what  he 
is  going  to  get  out  of  you,  and  you  two  act 
together  accordingly. 

In  the  hunting  field  there  is  nothing  more 
comical  than  the  actions  of  a  disunited  pair, 
always  in  two  minds  as  to  everything  they 
encounter.  The  best  hunting  jokes  relate  to 
the  breaking  up  of  that  molecule  into  its  com- 
ponent atoms. 

In  teaching  Disciple  to  jump,  begin  on  the 
theory  that  you  wish  to  show  him  something 
new  which  is  going  to  be  a  special  treat  to  him, 
and  that  you  only  allow  him  to  jump  as  a 
treat  and  reward.  He  will  soon  accept  that 
view  of  the  matter  and  will  jump  just  as  often 
as  you  let  him.  For  Heaven's  sake,  from  the 
very  beginning,  never  once  drive  him  over  a 
jump.  Never  let  him  for  an  instant  think 
that  jumping  is  an  unpleasant  duty  which  he 
is  to  be  forced  to  do  against  his  will.  If  that 
idea  ever  gets  into  his  head  and  develops  into 
conviction,  it  will  infaUibly  lead  to  refusals. 
What  you  have  got  to  keep  always  before  you, 
in  training  a  horse  to  jump,  is  to  do  it  on  a 

U6 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

plan  that  has  for  its  special  object  the  eUmina- 
tion  of  every  tendency  to  refuse  any  jump 
at  which  he  is  put.  Never,  in  his  training,  put 
a  horse  at  a  jump  which  is  at  all  likely  to  pro- 
duce a  refusal.  You  must  use  your  best 
judgment  in  this  matter.  In  jumping,  as  in 
everything  else,  you  must  use  the  system  of 
little  steps,  by  which  you  will  know  to  a  cer- 
tainty what  is,  and  what  is  not — ^for  the  time 
being — within  your  horse's  capacity.  Always 
make  the  lessons  quite  short,  so  that,  during 
the  training,  the  horse  is  never  tired.  If  he 
gets  tired,  the  conceit  that  the  jumping  is  a 
treat  and  reward  will  fade  from  his  mind,  and 
the  risk  of  a  refusal  begins  to  increase  in  direct 
ratio  to  the  increase  of  his  fatigue.  Moreover, 
jumping  brings  into  play  an  entirely  fresh 
lot  of  muscles,  and  the  strains  must  be  put 
upon  them  quite  gradually  in  order  that  these 
muscles  may  develop  to  their  maximum  pro- 
portions and  tenacity  of  fibre  without  risk  of 
sprain  or  rupture.  For  all  these  reasons  go 
quite  slow,  and  stick  to  the  system  of  Mttle 
steps.  Festina  lente,  every  time.  By  so  doing 
you  make  the  quickest  progress,  and  avoid 
any  risk  of  failure.  Whatever  is  worth  doing 
at  all,  is  always  worth  doing  in  the  very  best 
possible  way. 

In  the  matter  of  his  first  learning  to  jump, 
let  a  horse  always  think  that  he  is  doing  all  the 
thinking  himself.     It  improves  his  brain  and 

147 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

courage,  makes  him  work  intelligently,  and 
helps  the  idea  that  he  is  being  allowed  to  jump 
as  a  treat  and  favour  to  himself.  One  of  the 
best  ways  of  starting  this  idea  and  of  beginning 
jumping,  is  to  put  him  on  the  grass  side  of  a 
road,  and,  when  he  knows  he  is  on  the  way 
home,  to  let  him,  at  a  walking  pace,  take  the 
little  drainage  channels,  at  his  own  speed  and 
in  his  own  way.  He  will  probably  at  first  try 
to  take  them  in  his  stride.  Let  him  do  so. 
It  will  teach  him  to  accommodate  his  stride 
to  the  inequalities  of  their  occurrence  and  size. 
In  a  little  while  give  him  a  tap  with  your 
riding  whip,  just  as  he  arrives  at  each,  and  he 
will  hop  over  them  with  a  baby  jump.  Don't 
use  the  reins  except  to  keep  him  on  the  gxass. 
Let  him  do  everything  in  his  own  way  and 
time.  It  will  amuse  him,  and  he  is  learning  all 
the  time.  He  will  gradually  learn  that  your 
mind  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  controlling  his  ; 
for  from  time  to  time  you  correct  his  faults. 
As  his  own  judgment  improves,  he  recognises 
certain  things  to  have  been  faults,  and  respects 
yours.  It  is  in  this  way  that  your  old  hunter 
acquired  his  great  confidence  in  you,  and  him- 
self played  up  to  your  judgment  of  things. 
After  Disciple  has  played  with  these  little 
drains  for  a  while,  tell  him  to  ''  trot,"  and  to 
"  jump  "  as  he  goes  over  them.  He  will  soon 
do  it  quite  nicely  at  the  trot,  checking  himself 
appropriately    in    his    stride.     He    will    soon 

U8 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

learn  the  meaning  of  this  new  word  "jump," 
and  as  soon  as  he  does  so,  leave  off  the  taps 
with  the  whip  and  use  the  word  each  time. 
On  the  second  or  third  day  of  doing  this,  you 
will  find  Disciple  will  want  to  leave  the  road 
as  soon  as  he  comes  to  the  grass  and  little 
grips,  just  for  the  pleasure  of  hopping  over 
them. 

If  you  have  the  luck  to  live  near  forest  or 
common,  it  is  always  possible  to  select  a  num- 
ber of  quite  little  jumps  to  begin  with — ditches 
of  all  kinds,  little  gorse  growths  and  the  like. 
If  there  is  an  object  in  getting  across  them  which 
Disciple  can  understand,  such  as  getting  out 
of  undergrowth  into  an  open  space  of  grass, 
so  much  the  better  for  him,  as  it  gives  point 
to  your  order  to  "  jump,"  and,  if  the  jump  is  a 
little  bigger  than  what  he  has  previously  been 
accustomed  to,  he  will  the  more  wiUingly 
make  the  greater  effort.  This  question  of 
object  becomes  quite  an  important  one  when 
you  begin  to  negotiate  larger  obstacles,  such 
as  a  water-ditch,  a  gap  in  a  fence  between  two 
fields,  and  the  horse  will  wilUngly  tackle  a 
greater  width  or  height  than  he  has  attempted 
before,  because  he  understands  that  you  want 
to  get  him  into  the  next  field,  which  he  will  be 
quite  keen  to  do  as  he  would  Uke  to  explore  it 
himself.  Before  you  start  your  run,  point  out 
the  ditch  or  gap  to  him,  and  in  a  conversational 
voice  repeat  the  word  "  jump  "  three  or  four 

I.  149 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

times,  and  he  will  quite  understand  what  you 
want  him  to  do,  and  you  can  tell  by  the  way  he 
goes  for  either  of  them  what  is  his  own  opinion 
of  his  capacity  to  clear  it.  When  the  exact 
taking-oS  place  arrives,  say  "  jump  "  again  as 
a  sharp  order,  and  you  will  find  that  in  a  few 
times  he  will  value  your  judgment  as  to  taking- 
off  and  follow  it.  When  you  want  to  intimate 
to  him  that  after  a  few  more  jumps  you  are 
going  to  make  him  rely  on  his  own  judgment 
in  taking-off,  lower  your  voice  in  giving  the 
"  jump  "  order,  and  give  less  and  less  emphasis 
to  the  word  until  it  is  just  a  mere  observation 
en  passant.  Probably  you  have  never  thought 
of  giving  the  verbal  order  to  jump  to  a  horse, 
but,  when  you  give  it  a  systematic  trial  in 
training  a  youngster,  it  will  astonish  you  what 
a  real  help  it  is.  You  can,  if  you  like,  carry 
it  so  far  that  a  horse,  on  level  ground  and  with 
no  obstacle  before  him,  will  take  a  high  jump 
in  the  air  just  on  your  order.  There  is  a 
practical  side  to  this  accomphshment,  for  a 
horse  so  trained  can  safely  jump  over  bare 
barbed  wire.* 


Putting  him  at  the  casual  natural  obstacles 
one  meets  on  moorland  and  in  forest,  gradually 

♦Many  Boer  farmers  in  the  Transvaal  train  their  ponies  to 
jump  naked  barbed  wire. 

150 


Jumping   an    invisible   fence 


[To  face  page  150 


Is   this   a    Unique    Occurrence  ? 


J.ijiituii,  fi'iiliil  I'll  j:.riiii,nr,  Mmj,  1911,  iihotor/niphrd  at  Lynton  I'ony  Show, 
OH  loth  August,  1911,  ivith  his  dam,  The  Champmi  Kitty  VI 


M'Ar-.LiH.itty,  burn  lltli  May,  1911,  with  her  Jual  Lyninarkittu,  burn  -.'Jth 
May,  1913,  and  Lynton  the  sire.  Photographed  10th  August,  1913,  luhen  the 
combined  ages  of  the  three  totalled  4  years  7  months. 


[To  face  page  151 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

from  the  smallest  to  the  largest  he  can  get 
over  or  across  without  risk  or  refusal,  is  of 
course  the  soundest  way  of  teaching  Disciple 
to  jump  ;  but  it  may  be  required  to  teach  him 
to  negotiate  the  obstacles  he  would  be  faced 
with  at  a  local  Show  or  at  the  Agricultural 
Hall,  IsUngton,  such  as  hurdles,  double  hurdles, 
gates,  gorse  fences,  imitation  walls  and  the  like. 

Now,  in  such  a  case,  you  have  to  train  the 
horse  or  pony  to  jump  with  the  special  disad- 
vantages that  no  ulterior  object  in  the  jump  is 
apparent  to  him  ;  that  all  the  appliances  are 
artificial ;  and  that  the  jump  itself,  when 
ultimately  raised,  is  the  highest  part  of  the 
barrier  he  sees  before  him — whereas  the 
natural  tendency  of  a  horse  is  to  select  the 
lowest  or  easiest  part  of  the  obstacle.  You 
have,  therefore,  a  much  bigger  task;  and  have 
to  rely  more  than  ever  for  success  upon  Dis- 
ciple's love  of  jumping  for  its  own  sake,  and 
the  belief  with  which  you  have  imbued  him 
that  he  is  being  allowed  to  jump  as  a  treat 
and  reward.  For  these  reasons  it  is  aU  the 
more  necessary  that  you  should  proceed  in 
the  smallest  of  small  steps,  and  that  he  should 
do  everything  of  his  own  volition,  and  not  be 
driven  to  do  it. 

The  greatest  treat  you  can  give  some  horses 
and  ponies  is  to  permit  them  to  jump  in  hand, 
that  is,  without  a  rider  and  on  the  leading 
rein.  In  some  cases,  especially  those  of  three  and 

151 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

four  year  olds,  the  teaching  of  jumping  in  hand 
is  the  best  way,  for  their  bones,  tendons  and 
muscles  are  not  yet  at  their  best  to  take  the 
heavy  strains  involved,  and  by  jumping  them 
without  a  rider  the  strains  are  much  less ; 
moreover,  their  judgment  as  to  taking  off  and 
landing  is  entirely  unfettered. 

Training  for  jumping  is  an  art  in  itself,  and 
this  chapter  cannot  pretend  to  a  full  treat- 
ment of  the  subject ;  only  to  touch  lightly 
upon  those  basic  principles  on  which  success 
depends,  and  each  reader,  if  he  is  so  disposed, 
can  adapt  these  principles  to  his  own  specific 
requirements.  For  a  jump  in  hand,  the 
requirements  as  to  paraphernalia  are  the 
ordinary  two  vertical  posts,  with  holes  and 
pegs  for  the  horizontal  bar,  plus  smooth  guide 
bars  on  each  of  the  wings  running  from  the 
ground  to  the  very  top  of  the  posts  at  an  angle 
of  25°  from  the  horizontal.  The  object  of 
these  guide  bars  is  to  allow  the  leading  rein  on 
striking  them  to  slide  right  up  and  over  the 
top  of  the  posts  without  any  possibility  of  the 
rein  catching  in  anything  that  would  put  a 
jerk  on  the  pony's  head  at  the  moment  of 
approaching,  rising  and  clearing  the  bar.  If 
there  is  a  double  jump,  the  guide  rails  for  the 
leading  rein  must  be  carried  on  from  the  tops 
of  the  first  two  vertical  posts  to  the  tops  of  the 
second  pair  of  vertical  posts,  to  clear  them 
also.     The  guide  rails  should  dip  between  the 

152 


Teaching    Rosanda    II    to   jump    in    hand 


Hind   feet  well  tucked  up,  owing  to  loose  rail   on  top  of  the  furze 


[To  face  page  153 


-  ■r^-^\^ 


Rosanda    II    clearing  bar   in   hand  at  6' 


Rosanda    II    clearing    6'   3" 
(This  pony  was  only  13  hds.  3  ins.  high  ) 


To  face  page  153 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

two  sets  of  vertical  posts,  when  they  are 
very  high,  25^  down  and  25^  up  again  to  the 
top  of  the  second  posts.  These  are  essentials 
in  the  prevention  of  accidents,  and  for  that 
reason  attention  is  here  especially  drawn  to 
them.  As  to  the  character  of  the  obstacles 
themselves  attached  to  the  vertical  posts, 
they  may  vary  from  the  plain  rope  or  bar  to 
the  most  comphcated  hurdles,  furze  bushes, 
gates  and  imitation  walls,  for  the  time  being 
in  vogue  at  the  shows. 

But,  whatever  the  character  of  the  obstacle 
you  want  the  horse  or  pony  to  jump,  begin 
with  leading  him  through  the  approaches  and 
vertical  posts,  at  a  walk,  with  nothing  in  the 
shape  of  any  obstacle  there.  Let  him  examine 
and  smell  the  posts,  guide  bars,  and  whatever 
else  there  may  be  there  of  a  permanent  nature, 
to  his  heart's  content,  and  so  thoroughly  that  he 
will  take  no  further  notice  of  them.  Then,  if 
you  are  going  to  start  him  with  a  rope  or  bar, 
let  the  rope  or  bar  lie  on  the  ground  and  let 
him  walk  over  it.  Put  it  up  three  inches  and  let 
him  walk  over  it  again — ^then  another  three  inches 
and  so  on  until  he  finds  it  necessary  to  hop 
over  it.  Remember  always  the  little  steps.  If 
you  are  starting  him  to  learn  to  jump  a  furze- 
bush  hurdle,  first  put  a  little  loose  furze  bush 
between  the  vertical  posts  and  let  him  walk 
over  it ;  then  a  Httle  more  ;  then  the  beginning 
of    a    hurdle,    and   add   to    its    height    quite 

153 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

gradually,  eventually  raising  the  full  sized  hurdle 
itself  on  the  vertical  posts.  The  same  with  the 
artificial  brick  wall.  Begin  with  a  hne  of 
loose  wooden  bricks  on  the  grass,  put  another 
row  on  top  and  so  on  little  by  little  until  quite 
gradually  you  have  arrived  at  the  height 
which  necessitates  a  hop  over  and  then  a 
jump.  In  the  case  of  each  and  every  one  of 
the  different  kinds  of  obstacles,  begin  it  in  its 
most  elementary  form  and  increase  its  diffi- 
culty, as  imperceptibly  as  you  can,  up  to  the 
hmit  of  the  animal's  powers. 

Even  when  Disciple  has  become  a  really 
fine  performer  over  these  various  obstacles, 
on  each  fresh  day  always  see  that  they  are 
low  and  well  within  his  capacity,  to  begin  with. 
Raise  them,  little  by  httle,  until  you  put  a 
real  tax  upon  his  jumping  powers.  Abuse 
him  by  word  of  mouth  (not  angrily,  but  in 
reproach  or  ridicule)  when  he  makes  palpable 
errors,  and  praise  him  when  he  does  well. 
He  will  pay  the  utmost  attention  to  what  you 
have  to  say  to  him,  and  will  be  pleased  with 
your  approval  and  try  to  win  it.  When  he 
has  done  something  exceptionally  good,  make 
a  great  fuss  over  him  and  give  him  a  lump  of 
sugar.  He  will  know  quite  well  what  it  is  for, 
and  he  will  make  efforts  to  win  another  lump. 


Follow  precisely  the  same  procedure  when 

154 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

training  for  jumping  in  saddle.  It  is  quite 
helpful  to  do  the  jumping  in  hand  and  in 
saddle  on  alternate  days,  and  it  stimulates 
Disciple's  intelligence  and  judgment.  As  soon 
as  he  becomes  proficient  in  both,  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  have  a  few  spectators  to  begin  to 
accustom  Disciple  to  the  ordeal  of  the  crowd, 
which  he  will  have  to  face  at  the  local  Show. 
Get  the  spectators  to  make  a  little  noise,  and, 
as  it  is  sure  to  put  him  off  his  jumping,  see  that 
the  jumps  are  very  low.  By  degrees  he  will 
take  less  notice  of  the  noise,  and  as  he  gets 
accustomed  to  it,  put  the  jumps  a  little  higher. 
Finally  he  won't  trouble  his  head  about  the 
spectators  at  all,  and  will  jump  in  his  best 
form.  Do  not  be  disappointed,  however,  if 
at  his  first  or  second  Show  he  is  entirely  off 
his  jumping.  Enter  him  for  as  many  events 
as  possible — ^for  musical  chairs  and  anything 
else  open  to  him — just  to  get  him  accustomed 
to  the  crowds  and  their  little  ways.  But  the 
ordeal  at  the  Agricultural  Hall  is  ten  times 
worse  than  anything  he  will  have  to  face  in  the 
summer  Shows  in  the  open  air.  The  roof  and  its 
reverberations,  the  blaze  of  electric  lights,  the 
galleries,  the  arena  itself  with  its  fringe  of  heads, 
the  applause  and  laughter,  the  unaccustomed 
appearance  of  the  jumps,  the  excited  neighing  of 
the  stalhons,  and  above  all,  the  thrilling  per- 
formances of  the  band  have  a  most  unsettling 
effect  upon  an  animal  up  for  the  first  time. 

155 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

On  his  way  to  the  Hall,  on  his  first  visit,  he 
had  had  the  most  frightful  time  of  his  life. 
The  train  was  bad  enough,  but  the  tramcars 
and  motor  omnibuses  blazing  with  electric 
Ught,  as  they  did  before  the  war,  and  discord- 
ant with  bells,  coming  at  him  and  behind  him 
one  after  another,  made  him  think  that  the 
end  of  his  world  had  come.  Quite  a  number 
of  animals  coming  for  the  first  time  to  the 
Show,  neither  drink,  eat,  nor  sleep  the  first 
night,  and  some  (mostly  mares,  worried  by  the 
neighing  of  the  stallions)  have  been  known  to 
touch  neither  oats,  hay,  nor  water  the  whole 
time  they  were  in  the  building.  Unless  the 
novice  is  of  an  unusually  equable  temperament, 
an  owner  must  not  expect  his  Pegasus  to  do 
well  in  the  Jumping  Classes  on  the  first  or 
second  visit  to  the  Agricultural  Hall — but  all 
horses  have  long  memories,  and  the  stage 
fright  gradually  disappears.  Animals  new  to 
the  London  Shows  do  require  and  merit  all  the 
help  that  can  possibly  be  given  to  them,  and 
it  would  certainly  be  of  great  assistance  and 
immensely  improve  the  jumping  of  novices  if 
they  could  be  permitted  practice  over  the 
obstacles  in  the  early  morning,  and  even  given 
one  free  run  to  accustom  them  to  the  crowd 
and  noise  in  the  actual  competitions.  Every 
encouragement  should  be  given  by  the  Societies 
using  the  Hall  to  novice  jumpers.  Of  all  the 
animals    shown,    they   are   the    most   severely 

156 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

handicapped  by  the  newness  of  the  conditions 
in  which  they  are  called  upon  to  display  their 
talents,  and  it  is  not  every  owner  of  a  promising 
jumper  that  can  afford  to  send  him  up  two  or 
three  times  to  Ishng-ton  before  he  begins  to 
have  a  chance  of  coming  home  a  winner.  Such 
concessions  would  certainly  increase  the  num- 
ber of  novices  in  the  Jumping  Classes;  and 
the  pubhc,  while  welcoming  the  good  old- 
timers  that  perform  so  well  year  after  year, 
are  keen  to  see  new  faces,  manes  and  tails. 
The  pubhc  enter  into  and  understand  the 
jumping  competitions  without  difficulty,  but  not 
always  the  other  selections,  which  sometimes, 
and  for  various  reasons,  are  puzzles  even  to 
the  very  elect.  Hence  the  large  attendances 
in  the  afternoon  when  the  jumping  takes  place. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  expense  taken 
in  preparing  them,  and  the  novice  animals 
ought  really  to  have  a  better  chance  of  giving 
creditable  performances.  Perhaps  the  great 
authorities  may  be  led  to  take  notice  of  this 
Uttle  request,  which  is  made  on  behalf  of  many 
good,  but  high-strung  and  nervous  horses  and 
ponies. 


157 


TEAINING    FOE    DEIVING 


CHAPTER  XII 
TRAINING  FOR  DRIVING 

YOU    have    ridden    and    trained    Disciple 
sufficiently  to  have  him  under   control 
in      every      possible      way.  He      answers 

voice  or  reins  promptly  and  con  amore. 
In  response  to  your  voice  alone  he  moves 
from  any  one  pace,  or  gait,  into  any  other ; 
starts,  comes  to  a  stand,  and  turns  to  right 
or  left.  He  jumps  well,  and  loves  it.  When, 
either  mounted  or  afoot,  you  tell  him  to  "He 
down "  he  does  so,  and  remains  there  until 
you  tell  him  to  "  get  up."  If  you  want  him 
to  lie  flat  on  his  side,  you  tell  him  to  "  lie  over  "; 
if  you  want  him  to  come  up  from  the  prone 
position  on  to  a  level  keel  again,  you  tell  him 
to  "he  up."  When  he  is  on  a  level  keel,  sit 
on  the  saddle  or  on  his  rump  ;  when  prone  on 
his  side,  sit  on  his  shoulder,  on  his  quarters, 
or  on  the  grass  between  his  neck  and  forelegs, 
with  his  chest  for  your  back-prop.  On  a  long 
ride,  to  he  down  is  a  rest  for  the  horse  and 
yourseK,  and  you  will  find  that  he  loves  it. 
If,  while  you  are  still  on  the  ground,  you  tell 

161 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

him  to  "  get  up,"  he  will  do  so,  exercising  the 
greatest  care  not  to  touch  or  hurt  you.  You 
can  train  him  to  stand  over  you  "  on  guard." 
while  you  Ue  on  the  ground.  When  thoroughly 
trained  he  will  not  move  a  pace  from  you, 
and,  if  you  are,  or  pretend  to  be,  asleep,  he 
will  stand  there  motionless ;  or  just  occasion- 
ally touching  you  with  his  soft  nose  to  assure 
himseK  that  you  are  all  right.  As  an  extension 
of  the  "  on  guard  "  idea,  it  is  quite  easy  to 
teach  him  to  stand  over  your  coat,  or  hat, 
while  you  yourself  perambulate  away  from  him. 
It  is  also  most  useful  to  teach  him  to  stand 
"  anchored,"  when  his  reins  are  thrown  over 
his  head  and  He  traihng  on  the  ground.  This 
is  a  great  Far-West  practice,  and  is  used 
extensively  in  Mexico,  Brazil,  Argentina  and 
AustraUa.  Teach  him  to  "  follow,"  which  he 
will  do,  with  his  nose  just  at  your  right  elbow. 

Every  lady's  hunter  ought  to  be  taught  to 
"  Ue  down "  at  the  word.  The  most  serious 
accidents  to  ladies  in  the  hunting  field  do  not 
occur,  as  a  rule,  from  any  actual  fall,  but  from 
the  struggles  and  kicking  of  an  excited  animal, 
scared  by  finding  himself  on  the  ground  in 
unaccustomed  circumstances,  and  in  which  he 
has  not  been  practised,  or,  in  fact,  subjected 
to  any  control.  If  he  has  been  taught  to  lie 
down  habitually,  and  he  falls  at  a  fence,  he 
will  at  once  cease  to  struggle,  if  his  rider  caUs 
out  to  him  authoritatively  to  "lie  down."     It  is 

162 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

curious  that  this  commonsense  bit  of  training, 
which  would  save  so  many  serious  accidents 
to  children,  ladies,  and  even  men,  in  the 
hunting  field,  has  not  only  not  been  brought 
into  common  usage  in  this  country,  but  appears, 
with  this  safeguard  as  an  object,  never  to  have 
been  practised  by  hunting  men  at  all. 

When  Disciple  has  become  thoroughly  pro- 
ficient in  all  saddle-work,  you  may  wish  to 
add  harness  work  to  his  accomplishments. 
Begin  by  letting  him  stand  in  his  stall  in  har- 
ness. Before  putting  on  the  new  equipment, 
show  all  of  it  to  him  thoroughly,  and  let  him 
smell  it  all  over.  He  will  understand  that 
you  have  some  new  game  on  for  him,  and  will 
take  a  keen  interest  in  all  the  paraphernalia. 
Talk  to  him  all  the  time  when  you  are  putting 
the  harness  on.  Show  each  individual  piece 
to  him,  and  put  it  very  slowly  on  his  back, 
scratching  his  back  as  you  do  so.  Handle  his 
tail  and  quarters  well  before  you  put  on  the 
crupper  and  breechings,  and  again,  afterwards. 
When  all  is  in  position,  flap  all  the  traces, 
breechings  and  loose  straps  about,  gently  at 
first,  and  then  with  increasing  vigour,  so  that 
he  becomes  accustomed  to  have  them  danghng 
about  him.  Let  him  spend  an  hour  or  two 
fully  caparisoned  in  the  loose-box,  and  free  to 
move  about  in  it,  before  you  take  him  outside. 

Have  no  bUnkers  on  the  bridle.  They  are 
not    only   wholly    unnecessarj'^,    and   serve   no 

163 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

good  purpose  whatever,  but  interfere  in  his 
relations  with  you  as  his  driver ;  for  it  is  an 
object  with  him  to  have  a  look  at  you  occasion- 
ally, and  a  pleasure  to  him  as  well.  Gradually 
accustomed,  as  he  will  be,  to  the  sight  of  the 
vehicle  behind  him,  neither  it,  nor  it's  moving 
wheels,  will  have  any  terrors  for  him. 

If  a  horse  has  been  always  used  to  bUnkers, 
it  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  if  you  wish 
him  to  do  without  them,  to  accustom  him  to 
their  absence.  Replace  the  leather  bhnkers 
with  stiff  cardboard  bhnkers  of  the  same  size, 
and  every  two  or  three  days  cut  off  a  quarter 
of  an  inch  in  front.  In  less  than  a  month 
they  wiU  have  disappeared  altogether.  This 
plan  is  an  apt  illustration  of  the  advantage 
of  educating  the  horse  by  little  steps  at  a  time. 

When  Disciple  has  stood  an  hour  or  two 
harnessed  in  his  loose-box,  take  him  outside 
on  a  leading  rein,  and  walk  him  about  with 
everything  danghng  about  him ;  and  don't 
forget  to  have  two  or  three  lumps  of  sugar 
in  your  pocket.  In  turning  a  horse  on  the 
leading  rein  always  turn  him  away  from  you 
and  not  towards  you.  It  is  much  safer  to  do 
this.  If  you  turn  a  young  and  frisky  horse 
towards  yourself  and  he  rears  he  can  strike 
you  with  his  forefeet.  He  can't,  if  you  turn 
him  away  from  you.  Talk  to  him  aU  the 
time,  and  you  wiU  find  everything  go  quite 
well.     Stop  him  with  the  word  "  stand,"  and 

161 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

set  him  off  again  with  the  word  "  walk."  Do 
this  a  number  of  times.  Next  day  take  him 
for  a  walk  on  the  road.  Tliere  will  be  no 
trouble. 

On  the  third  day  put  on  the  driving  reins 
in  the  loose-box,  and  gradually  flap  them  all 
over  him,  so  that  he  is  not  scared  by  their 
touch  anyivhere.  When  you  take  him  outside, 
use  a  leading  rein  as  before,  and  get  your  man 
to  carry  the  driving  reins  behind  the  horse 
loosely,  and  so  that  no  pull  at  all  comes  on  the 
bit.  Lead  him  and  turn  him  about  the  yard 
first,  and  then  take  him  out  on  the  road.  He 
has  no  bhnkers  on,  and  is  able  to  see  your 
man  following  him  and  also  the  reins.  Again 
stop  him  and  start  him  with  the  words  "  stand  " 
and  "  walk." 

After  a  mile  or  so,  turn  the  horse  home- 
wards, and  let  your  man  take  the  leading  rein 
while  you  take  the  driving  reins.  For  a  little 
carry  them  loosely,  as  your  man  did,  without 
any  pull  on  the  bit.  Then  stop  him,  with 
the  word  "  stand "  accompanied  with  the 
first  pull  on  the  bit.  Release  the  pull,  and 
start  him  with  the  word  "  walk."  Now  tell 
your  man  to  hold  the  leading  rein  quite  slackly 
and  to  drop  behind  the  horse's  shoulder,  so 
that,  from  now  on,  you  direct  the  horse's 
movements  with  your  voice  and  the  driving 
reins  alone.  Tell  your  man  that  you  are 
going  to  turr.  the  horse  to  left  and  right,  so 

M  165 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

that  he  may  be  prepared  to  keep  the  leading 
rein  slack  in  both  eventuahties.  Then  direct 
Disciple  with  your  voice  "  Right  turn "  and 
pull  the  appropriate  rein,  "  Left  turn  "  ditto, 
and  "  Forward  "  when  you  want  him  to  keep 
straight  ahead.  In  a  very  few  minutes  he 
will  have  absorbed  this  new  line  of  instruction 
quite  intelligently,  and  you  can  dispense  with 
the  leading  rein.  Give  him  another  day's 
practice  at  this,  and  he  will  then  be  ready  to 
learn  to  pull. 

The  easiest  way  to  teach  a  horse  to  pull  is 
to  get  two  men  to  haul  on  the  traces,  lengthen- 
ing each  with  about  10ft.  of  rope,  so  that  the 
men  remain  behind  you.  At  first  they  should 
carry  the  ropes  and  traces  quite  slackly,  with- 
out any  pull  on  them.  You  will  first  go 
through  the  previous  day's  operations  of 
starting,  stopping  and  turning  with  everything 
slack.  When  you  first  give  the  horse  the 
word  to  "  Pull,"  tell  your  men  to  put  only  a 
little  drag  on  the  traces  ;  just  sufficient  to  keep 
them  taut.  The  next  time  you  say  "  Pull," 
let  them  put  more  drag  on  ;  and  subsequently 
gradually  increase  the  drag,  until  they  are 
putting  all  their  weight  on  to  the  horse.  Take 
care  that  the  weight  is  increased  very  gradually, 
so  that  there  is  no  hazard  of  a  refusal  on  the 
part  of  Disciple.  If  you  get  him  to  under- 
stand that  you  want  him  to  pull,  on  the  word, 
he  will  do  so  cheerfully ;   but  there  is  some 

166 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

little  risk  of  his  misunderstanding  the  weight 
as  being  meant  as  an  indication  to  him  to  stop. 
For  this  reason,  it  is  well  for  you  to  carry  a 
gig  Avhip,  so  that  you  can  touch  him  on  the 
quarters  when  you  give  him  the  word  to  "  Pull." 

Give  him  another  day  of  this,  until  he 
thoroughly  understands  pulling  at  the  word, 
both  on  the  straight  and  in  turning.  The 
next  thing  is  to  introduce  him  to  the  vehicle, 
to  which  you  intend  to  harness  him.  There  is 
nothing  better  than  an  American  four-wheel 
buggy,  with  a  full  lock  so  that  you  can  turn 
round  in  the  width  of  an  ordinary  road.  For 
Hghtness  of  draft,  up  hill  and  down,  smooth 
running,  absence  of  repairs,  and  ease  for  your 
horse,  a  well-built,  rubber-tyred,  full  lock  four- 
wheel  buggy,  made  by  a  good  American  builder 
cannot  be  surpassed.  Bring  it  out  into  the 
yard,  when  Disciple  is  standing  outside.  Take 
him  up  to  it  slowly  and  let  him  look  at  it,  and 
smell  it  all  he  wants  to.  Take  him  all  round 
it  and  talk  to  him.  Lift  up  the  shafts  and 
drop  them.  Lift  up  the  buggy  with  one  hand, 
and  turn  the  wheels  round  ;  slowly  at  first  then 
quickly.  Shake  the  buggy  until  it  rattles,  and 
move  it  forwards  and  backwards.  He  will  be 
quite  inteUigent  about  it,  and  will  understand 
that  this  is  just  one  more  of  your  games  in 
which  you  wish  him  to  participate. 

After  he  has  seen  everj^hing  there  is  to  see 
and  is  quite  familiarised  with  the  buggy  in  all 

167 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

its  aspects,  put  the  driving  reins  on  him  with 
a  short  leading  rein  coiled  up  for  subsequent 
use.     Walk  in  front,  using  the  driving  reins, 
and  get  your  men,   each  holding  a  shaft,   to 
follow  him  with  the  buggy  behind  as  close  up 
as  possible.     A  quarter  of  a  mile  of  this  will 
do.     Then  stop,  give  him  a  bit  of  sugar,  coil 
up  the  driving  reins  and  tie  them  up  on  his 
back,  have  the  leading  rein  ready  and  get  the 
two  men,  while  you  talk  to  Disciple,  to  bring 
the  buggy  up  quite  slowly  and  put  the  shafts 
in  the  tugs.     Tell  them  to  hold  them  there 
by   the    pressure    of   their    fingers   when    you 
presently   lead   the   horse   on.     It   is   not   the 
least  Ukely  that  Disciple  wiU  object  to   have 
the  buggy  follow  him  so  closely,  as  he  knows 
all  about  it,  and  you  have  already  taught  him 
to  pull ;  but  it  is  well  always  to  be  prepared 
for  any  eventuality.     Therefore  do   not   have 
the   traces   fastened   to   the   puU-bar,    or   the 
breechings  to  the  shafts,   at  this  first  essay. 
He  will  get  the  sense  of  pull  all  right  through 
the  shafts  being  held  in  the  tugs,  and  if,  by  any 
unlikely  chance.  Disciple  did  make  a  fuss,  it 
is  quite  easy  for  the  men — but  only  on  your 
order — ^to   release  the   shafts  and  fall  behind 
with  the  buggy. 

This  eventuaUty,  and  what  they  are  to  do 
in  case  of  trouble,  having  been  explained  to 
your  men  and  properly  understood,  start 
Disciple  with  the  words  "Walk"  and  "Pull," 

168 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

on  the  leading  rein,  with  yourself  at  his  shoulder. 
It  is  a  hundred  to  one  that  everything  will 
go  all  right.  Talk  to  him  and  go  about  one 
hundred  yards.  Stop  and  pet  him,  and  administer 
just  one  lump  of  sugar.  Start  again  and  continue 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  talking  to  him  at 
intervals.  Stop,  and  if  everything  has  gone 
all  right,  take  off  the  leading  rein,  uncoil  the 
driving  reins,  fall  back  behind  your  men  to 
the  level  of  the  forecarriage,  and  start  him 
again  with  the  words  "Walk"  and  "Pull." 
You  have  him  under  complete  control  with  the 
driving  reins,  and  it  is  again  a  hundred  to  one 
that  all  will  be  right.  Go  half  a  mile  thus,  stop, 
pet  Disciple,  give  him  another  piece  of  sugar  in 
reward  for  his  perfect  behaviour,  and  get  the 
men  to  make  the  traces  fast  to  the  pullbar, 
and  the  breeching  to  the  shafts.  Then  let 
the  men  go  back  to  their  former  places,  each 
with  his  hand  on  his  shaft,  and  start  again. 
Disciple  won't  know  the  difference.  After 
another  haK  mile,  during  which  you  have 
talked  to  Disciple  from  your  new  position, 
stop,  go  to  his  head,  pet  him  and  give  him  just 
another  lump  of  sugar. 

Take  the  opportunity  of  this  stop,  and  while 
you  are  at  Disciple's  head,  to  get  one  of  your 
men  to  get  up  into  the  driving  seat  and  step 
down  again  two  or  three  times,  so  that  the 
horse  gets  accustomed  to  the  swaying  of  the 
buggy.     Then    with    the    two    men    at    their 

169 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

places  at  the  shafts,  get  up  yourself  and  start 
him  with  the  famihar  "Walk"  and  "Pull," 
All  will  go  right.  Stop  and  start  him  often. 
Talk  to  him,  and  you  will  see  him  turn  his 
head  just  sufficiently  to  get  a  sight  of  you  on 
the  box.  When  he  comes  to  a  stand,  he  will 
bend  his  neck  right  round  to  get  a  good  square 
look  at  you.  Get  down  and  go  up  to  him 
and  make  a  thorough  fuss  of  him.  He  is  not 
scared  or  frightened  in  the  least.  With  your- 
self at  his  head  and  your  men  still  at  the  shafts, 
turn  him  round  in  the  road  to  face  for  home. 
Do  this  quite  slowly,  as  it  is  the  first  time  that 
he  will  see  the  buggy  following  him  in  this 
position.  Walk  at  his  head  for  another  fifty 
yards,  then  turn  him  completely  round  again, 
to  get  him  more  used  to  it. 

Again  mount  to  the  driving  seat,  and  walk 
the  horse  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Tell  your 
men  that  you  are  going  to  trot  him  slowly, 
and  that  they  are  to  keep  their  positions  and 
run  alongside.  Then  tell  Disciple  to  "  Trot," 
and  he  will  do  so  without  demur.  Keep  at  a 
slow  trot  for  a  mile,  then  tell  him  to  "  Walk," 
and  let  him  continue  at  the  walking  pace  for 
a  mile.  Then  stop ;  a  little  petting  and  the 
lump  of  sugar.  Tell  him  to  "  stand."  Let 
him  stand  here  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Move 
around  him,  so  that  he  understands  that  it  is 
part  of  the  business  to  stand  still  for  a  while. 
Get  up  again   and  walk   and  trot   alternately 

170 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

until  you  get  home.  Enter  your  drive  at  a 
walking  pace  and  so  continue  to  the  stables. 
Make  a  great  fuss  of  him  on  arrival ;  unharness 
him ;  take  him  round  the  buggy,  which  he 
will  look  at  and  smell  with  renewed  interest, 
and  j^ourself  take  him  into  his  stable  and 
unharness  him. 

The  next  day  start  in  the  same  way,  but 
after  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  fix  the  traces 
and  breeching  and  walk  and  trot  Disciple  with 
your  men  at  the  shafts.  After  a  couple  of 
miles,  let  one  man  get  up  into  the  back  seat, 
and  walk  and  trot  as  before.  After  another 
mile,  let  the  second  man  get  up  and  all  will  be 
right.  At  the  end,  and  before  you  turn  round 
to  come  home,  let  both  men  get  down  to  their 
places  at  the  shafts.  Then  turn  round  quite 
slowly  and  stop  for  the  men  to  get  up.  On 
his  homeward  way  Disciple  will  go  like  an  old 
customer  and  you  can  let  him  trot  a  little 
faster.  On  your  way  home  turn  him  round 
two  or  three  times,  and  for  these  turns  let  the 
men  get  down  and  take  up  their  previous 
positions,  but  a  pace  or  two  away  from  the 
shafts.  They  are  there  only  to  be  handy  in 
case  of  need,  but  they  will  not  be  needed. 

Tlius,  in  a  week  from  the  commencement  of 
operations,  you  will  have  broken  Disciple  to 
harness  without  the  least  trouble  to  him,  or 
to  yourself.  It  has  been  done  by  a  progression 
of  very  Httle  steps,  in  each  one  of  which  you 

171 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

have  had  his  willing  co-operation ;  and  never 
once  has  he  been  scared  or  frightened  by  any- 
thing that  you  have  asked  him  to  do. 


More  horses  are  spoilt  in  breaking  into 
harness  than  in  any  other  way.  The  horse  is 
easy  enough  to  teach  ;  but  it  is  so  difficult  to 
really  teach  the  man.  The  usual  British 
groom  cannot  be  taught  anything.  He  has 
his  own  ways,  from  which  he  will  not  depart, 
however  much  trouble  you  may  take  to  try 
and  convince  him  that  they  are  detrimental 
to  the  objects  in  view,  namely,  the  breaking 
of  the  horse  without  scaring  him,  and  without 
making  him  beheve  that  man  is  an  enemy. 
He  will  listen,  respectfully  enough,  to  all  you 
have  to  say ;  and,  immediately  your  back  is 
turned,  will  straight  away  do  again  what  he 
did  before.  Follow  such  a  groom  on  his  heels 
into  the  stable,  and  you  will  find  that  the 
horses,  who  always  welcome  you  with  a  whinny, 
turn  nervously  away  from  him  and  lay  their 
ears  back.  His  bed-rock  idea  is  that  he  must 
always  exhibit  to  his  charges  his  mastery  over 
them.  When  grooming  them,  he  speaks 
rouglily.  He  makes  them  move  over  smartly, 
and,  if  they  do  not  move  over  smartly  enough 
to  please  him,  he  hits  them  with  the  brush. 
He  picks  up  their  feet  roughly.     When  he  is 

172 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

standing  near  a  horse,  you  can  see  a  certain 
nervous  tremor,  and  an  expression  in  the  eye 
of  the  animal,  that  tell  the  tale  with  unfailing 
accuracy  of  his  treatment  of  his  charges  ?  in 
private.  When  a  groom  gets  a  kick  or  a  bite 
in  a  stable  from  an  animal,  who  has  been  long 
under  his  charge,  the  occurrence  tells  against 
the  man  rather  than  against  the  horse.  Such 
a  groom  is  never  the  comrade  of  his  horses, 
and,  but  for  the  fact  that  they  have  to  look 
to  him  for  their  food  and  drink,  they  would 
prefer  to  have  no  truck  with  him  at  all.  When 
they  are  turned  out  to  grass,  his  entry  into  the 
field  is  the  signal  for  them  to  move  away  and 
he  can  never  get  near  them  ;  sometimes  not 
even  with  the  customary  bait  of  a  feed  ;  they 
know  him  too  well.  On  the  other  hand,  to  a 
groom  who  is  their  well-loved  comrade,  his 
incoming  is  welcomed  with  neighs  and  a  racing 
scamper  up  to  him  ;  feed,  or  no  feed. 

To  a  groom,  so  out  of  sympathy  with  his 
horses  that  they  are  afraid  of  him,  it  is  the 
worst  mistake  to  entrust  one  of  them  to  him 
to  break  into  harness.  Such  a  man  is  sure 
to  be  short-tempered.  The  horse  views  with 
suspicion  every  new  thing  that  the  groom  does, 
and  is  prepared  for  defence,  and,  if  need  be, 
for  revolt.  The  man  has  not  the  intelligence 
to  understand  horse-nature,  or  his  horses  would 
not  be  afraid  of  him,  and  his  one  idea,  if  things 
do    not    go    well,    is    force    and   punishment. 

173 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Instead  of  a  succession  of  little  steps,  all  of  which 
the  horse  can  understand,  he  wants  to  make  big 
steps,  which  the  horse  will  not  understand  and 
will  resent.  And  so  mutual  antagonism  is  set 
up  at  the  beginning  of  the  course,  and  the  result 
is,  not  only  little  or  no  progress  in  breaking, 
but  the  very  effective  spoiling  of  the  horse. 

Some  horses  are  so  sweet-tempered  that 
even  a  short-tempered  man  cannot  help  but 
succeed  in  breaking  them  into  harness.  But 
it  is  when  difficulties  arise  that  he  fails.  It  is 
most  essential  that,  in  giving  orders  to  assist- 
ants during  the  breaking,  a  level  tone  of  voice 
should  always  be  employed,  without  a  trace 
of  excitement  in  it.  Something  scares  the 
horse  and  he  gets  excited,  and  to  this  particular 
brand  of  fool  it  appears  appropriate  that,  in 
such  circumstances,  he  should  shout  his  in- 
structions at  the  top  of  his  voice.  It  does  not 
occur  to  him  that  he  is  adding  to  the  terror 
of  the  horse.  The  more  the  horse  gets  scared, 
the  more  excitedly  the  groom  yells  to  the 
assistants,  and,  unless  he  succeeds  in  getting 
control  of  the  horse  by  main  force,  he  ends 
in  scaring  his  assistants  too,  and  thus  the 
accident  happens,  which,  when  he  relates  the 
result  to  the  owner  viewing  the  remains,  appear 
to  him  clear  proof  that  "  that  there  'oss  might 
be  a  good  saddle  'oss,  but  'e'd  never  make  an 
'arness  'oss  as  long  as  he  Uved,  and  it's  lucky, 
sir,  we  found  it  out  in  time." 

174 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

In  his  system  of  breaking  by  vis  majeure, 
the  short-tempered  groom  encounters  problems 
in  which  force  is,  of  com^se,  no  remedy  ;  and 
it  is  then  that  the  Httle  intelhgence  there  may 
be  in  him  deserts  him  altogether,  and  he 
becomes  a  blind  raging  brute.  Nothing  up- 
sets his  temper  so  much  as  the  obstacle  he 
doesn't  understand.  He  has  not  sufficiently 
accustomed  the  horse  to  his  harness,  or  to  pull ; 
the  collar  or  breast-strap  galls,  and,  when  the 
horse  is  asked  to  pull  the  load  behind  him,  it 
hurts  him,  and  he  does  not  move  forward. 
Instead  of  getting  down  to  see  what  is  wrong 
and  put  it  right,  and  petting  and  encouraging 
the  horse  to  go  ahead,  he  shouts  and  slashes, 
and  saws  at  its  mouth.  Under  punishment, 
some  animals  will  end  their  resistance  by 
going  ahead,  but  others  of  a  sulky  nature  wiU 
continue  their  refusal.  The  more  the  horse 
refuses,  the  more  this  sort  of  man  loses  his 
temper  and  rains  blows  upon  the  unfortunate 
animal.  He  saAvs  at  its  mouth,  until  its  hps 
and  gums  are  a  mass  of  foam  and  blood. 
Sweating  and  trembling  with  fear  and  the 
punishment,  and  rearing  with  the  pain  of  its 
mouth,  in  about  ten  minutes  of  this  treatment, 
the  horse  has  been  converted  into  a  jibber  for 
life. 

If  you  have  a  valuable  horse  to  break 
into  harness,  do  it  yourself.  If  that  for  any 
reason  is  impossible,  take  the  greatest  care  in 

175 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

the  selection  of  the  man  to  whom  you  entrust 
so  important  a  job. 

If  your  horse,  when  in  a  vehicle,  sHps  up  on 
the  road  and  falls,  as  may  be  the  case  on 
asphalte  or  ice,  don't  scold  him  in  a  loud  and 
agitated  voice.  Go  quickly  and  quietly  to  his 
head,  pat  him  on  the  crest  of  his  mane  and 
give  him  the  usual  order  to  "  lie  down."  He 
will  keep  quiet  and  make  no  struggle.  Keep 
at  his  head  and  tell  your  man,  or  any  helpful 
bystander,  to  quietly  release  the  belly-band, 
traces,  and  breechings,  and,  while  the  horse 
is  still  on  the  ground  with  you  at  his  head,  to 
slowly  draw  back  the  vehicle  until  the  shafts 
are  quite  clear  of  the  horse.  Then  tell  him 
to  "  get  up,"  which  he  will  do  quite  quietly 
and  with  the  minimum  of  damage  to  his 
knees.  It  is  not  often  that  a  horse 
sustains  severe  damage  in  the  actual  faU: 
most  occurs  when  the  horse  is  scared  and 
struggles. 

When  a  Uke  accident  occurs  with  the  excit- 
able unintelligent  groom  in  charge,  he  generally 
loses  his  head  completely,  jumps  noisily  ofi  his 
box,  raises  his  voice  to  the  horse  and  shouts 
to  the  bystanders  who  run  up  to  assist.  If  he 
had  kept  quiet,  the  horse  would  have  kept 
quiet ;  but  excited  by  the  commotion,  the 
noise,  and  the  men  running  up  to  him,  the 
horse  struggles  and  tries  to  get  up.  Entangled 
by  the  harness  and  shafts,  he  rises  only  to  fall 

176 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  struggle  again,  and  thus  the  greater  damage 
is  done. 

In  any  and  every  kind  of  accident  to  a  horse, 
never  raise  the  voice  ;  keep  cool,  talk  to  him 
and  pet  him,  and,  even  if  he  is  hurt,  you  will 
immediately  disperse  his  fears  and  have  him 
under  complete  control. 


177 


THE   MOST  WONDEEFUL  THING  IN 
THE    WOELD 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  THING  IN  THE 
WORLD 

THE  mystery  of  procreation  and  the  con- 
tinuation of  life  handed  down  from 
generation  to  generation  is  the  study  of 
aU  studies,  for  it  is  the  peak  from  which 
every  theory  and  problem  of  origin,  relation- 
ship, and  destiny  has,  in  final  resort,  to  be 
viewed  and  reviewed.  The  widest  problems 
of  space,  matter,  and  motion  are  involved ; 
the  meaning  of  the  universe  ;  the  reason  and 
object  of  life  ;  the  why  and  whither  of  every- 
thing. The  contemplation  of  such  high 
thoughts  is  the  true  religion,  the  stay  and 
foundation  of  all  morals. 

Come  down,  from  the  contemplation  of  the 
remote  universe  and  its  starry  systems  as  a 
whole,  to  this  world  ;  from  this  world,  to  its 
matter ;  from  matter  in  general,  to  organized 
matter ;  to  the  long  development  from  the 
lowliest  organisms,  up  to  insects,  fishes,  birds, 
and  beasts.  Still  further  narrow  the  view  to 
the    mammaha  and    man.     They   are  so  close 

K  181 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

in  affinity,  as  to  be  almost  one  in  essence  and 
in  spirit.  So  close  are  they  that  their 
"  whither  "  cannot  He  far  apart. 

In  the  quaUty  of  the  senses  man  has  Uttle 
or  no  superiority  over  his  brother  mammalia. 
In  sight,  hearing  and  smeU,  other  members 
of  the  family  have  the  greater  gifts ;  but  some 
of  the  birds  have  an  incomparable  supremacy 
in  long  distance  sight  and  hearing  over  any  of 
the  mammaha.  If  man  excels  at  all,  it  is  in 
the  nuances  of  taste,  but,  more  importantly, 
in  dehcacy  of  feeling,  the  hereditary  results  of 
education  in  the  course  of  thousands  of  genera- 
tions. 

As  to  brain  and  brain  power,  it  seems  certain 
that  every  kind  of  animal's  brain,  including 
man's,  is  developed  (on  an  average  of  the 
whole,  but  varjdng  in  respect  of  individuals) 
to  an  equal  pitch  of  efficiency  and  range,  in  the 
sufficiency  required  to  successfully  maintain 
their  existence  in  their  several  modes  of  Hfe. 
Brain  power,  in  degree,  consists  in  faciUty  of 
response  to  stimuU,  and  in  aU  matters  of  vital 
importance  the  degree  of  brain  power  must 
be  equal  in  all  animals  ;  but  the  range  of  brain 
power  will  vary  in  accordance  with  the  range 
of  stimuli,  of  which  account  has  to  be  taken 
to  maintain  existence.  In  degree,  man's 
brain  power  is  probably  not  in  excess  of  that 
of  any  of  the  more  intelligent  mammals ;  but 
the  range  of  stimuli  encompassed  is  enormously 

182 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

greater,  hence  the  great  development  in  the 
mass  of  the  human  brain. 

In  man  and  the  other  mammals  the  stimuli 
and  methods  of  procreation  are  the  same ; 
the  methods  of  carrying  and  bearing  their 
young,  the  sustenance  of  their  young  when 
born,  and  their  affection  for  their  young,  all 
are  the  same  in  essence.  What  variation 
there  is  in  detail,  is  the  circumstance  of  diver- 
gent anatomical  structure  and  mode  of  life. 

But  in  the  degree  of  development  of  the 
young  at  birth,  the  most  extraordinary  vari- 
ations occur.  Kittens  and  puppies  are  born 
blind,  and  are  utterly  helpless  prey  to  any 
bird  or  beast  for  whom  they  would  form  food. 
For  many  days  they  sleep  the  whole  time, 
waking  only  for  sustenance,  and  but  for  the 
hereditary  abilities  of  their  mothers  to  success- 
fully hide  them,  cats  and  dogs  would  long 
ere  this  have  been  extinct  species.  The  human 
progeny,  who  arrives  endowed  with  no  more 
intelligence  than  a  bag  of  pulp,  is  in  worse 
case  still,  for  the  enlarged  infant,  while  wholly 
incapable  of  resistance  but  presenting  solid 
attractions  as  a  meal  for  carnivora,  declines 
to  lie  low  and  remain  hid  in  a  bush.  His 
habit  of  advertising  his  precise  locality  by 
piercing  lamentations  would  have  wiped  tlie 
human  species  also  out  of  existence  ;  but  for 
the  marvellous  caprice,  developed  of  heredity, 
of  the  human  female,  who  unprovided,  like  the 

183 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

kangaroo,  with  a  suitable  pouch,  actually 
carried  its  young  in  its  arms.  Subsequent 
expansion  of  the  brain-pan  of  the  male  enabled 
him  to  perceive  that  danger  to  the  race  lay  in 
reposing  absolute  reUance  upon  the  permanent 
continuance  of  a  freakish  female  custom,  so 
with  an  expenditure  of  much  grey  brain- 
matter,  and  with  manj^^  headaches,  he  gradually 
and  in  succession  invented  houses,  bassinettes, 
baby  foods,  nurse-girls,  pohcemen  and  peram- 
bulators. It  is  thus  that  the  human  race  has 
continued  to  this  day — little  stimuli  acting 
on  a  range  of  brain  power  sufficiently  extended 
and  attuned  to  gather  them  in. 

The  prehistoric  dog  was  a  small  animal  like 
a  jackal,  gregarious,  without  much  strength 
or  courage,  and  no  attacker  except  of  small 
things  and  dead  carcases ;  but  his  success  in 
hiding  his  mate  and  her  young  sufficed  for  the 
long  impotence  of  the  puppies.  The  wild 
boar,  with  his  tusks,  is  a  ferocious  and  courage- 
ous beast,  and  the  wild  sow  is  no  poltroon. 
As  the  element  of  effective  protection  comes  in, 
the  semi-comatose  period  of  the  young  shortens. 
The  young  pigs  can  run  well  in  a  very  few 
days.  Wild  cattle,  and  their  cousins  the 
buffaloes,  Uve  in  their  herds,  and  both  have 
the  habit,  when  danger  appears,  of  forming  a 
circle,  horns  outwards,  with  the  calves  in  the 
middle.  It  takes  several  days  before  a  calf 
can  move  quickly.     But  the  horse  has  no  such 

184 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

weapon  of  defence.  His  sole  defence  in  danger 
is  promptness  of  action,  and  his  great  speed 
in  conveying  himself  away  from  its  scene. 

It  is  the  foal  that  is  the  most  wonderful 
thing  in  the  world.  He  comes  into  it  equipped 
mth  every  muscle  fit  for  action,  with  every 
sense  developed  to  its  full ;  but  most  wonderful 
of  all,  with  a  brain  capable  of  instant  decisions 
and  fortified  mth  experience.  Only  under  such 
conditions  could  the  equine  race  have  survived 
prior  to  their  association  with  man  as  their 
protector.  A  critical  examination  of  the  con- 
duct of  a  foal,  immediately  following  his  birth, 
leaves  not  the  shghtest  doubt  that  he  is  en- 
dowed with  experience  of  the  conditions  of 
his  new  environment.  Obviously  this  experi- 
ence has  been  gained  in  antenatal  days.  What 
does  this  mean  ?  It  means  that  he  has  seen 
with  his  mother's  eyes,  heard  with  her  ears, 
smeUed  with  her  nose,  felt  with  her  nerves. 
Whatever  stimuli  of  the  outer  world  have  acted 
upon  her  brain  have  been  transmitted  through 
the  nerve  connections  of  the  umbilical  cord — 
the  most  wonderful  telegraphic  cable  that 
ever  was,  or  will  be,  because  it  transmits  sight, 
sound,  sensation,  smell,  sustenance  and  power, 
aU  in  full  degree  and  simultaneously — to  the 
receiving  apparatus  of  the  brain  of  the  foal 
witliin  her  body,  and  have  acted  upon  his 
brain  also.  When  her  brain  has  been  at  work, 
his  brain  has  been  at  work.     When  she  has 

185 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

thought  of  nothing  in  particular  he  has  been 
asleep.  But  in  all  the  mare's  moments  of 
excitement,  quick  mental  decisions  and  vigorous 
muscular  actions,  his  brain  has  been  educated 
and  his  corresponding  nerves  and  muscles 
have  been  actuated  under  Uke,  if  shadowy, 
impulses.  Whatever  has  happened  to  her  has 
been  enacted  in  parallel,  more  faintly,  in  him. 
Even  in  the  early  foetus,  rudimentary  inchoate 
stirrings  must  have  taken  place,  ever  growing 
stronger  with  the  gradual  growth  and  extension 
of  the  nervous  system,  until,  with  the  antenatal 
development  of  the  foal  approaching  its 
maximum,  the  impressions  become  so  more  and 
more  striking  in  their  vividness  as  to  compare 
with  those  of  the  mare  herself. 

There  is  not  the  least  doubt  that  towards 
the  end,  the  pictures  of  men,  animals,  herbage 
and  landscape  formed  within  the  foal's  brain 
are  as  complete  in  colour  and  definition  as  in 
the  brain  of  the  mare  herseK.  The  picture 
grows  upon  the  foal's  brain  exactly  as  it  does 
upon  the  ground  glass  plate  of  a  camera  with 
the  gradual  opening  of  an  iris  diaphragm. 
First  of  all  nothing,  then  dim  impressions  of 
movement,  and  of  the  greater  masses  of  high 
lights  and  deep  shadows.  These  brighten  and 
deepen  ;  then  come  the  beginnings  of  definition, 
then  in  low  tone  a  recognisable  picture,  and 
finally,  as  when  the  diaphragm  is  completely 
open,  the  same  in  the  sharpest  definition  and 

186 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

contrast.  But  however  low  the  tone  of  the 
picture,  the  movement  in  it  is  always  that  of 
actuahty,  and  it  is  probable  that  movement, 
rather  than  contrasts  of  hght  and  shade,  makes 
the  earhest  impression  on  the  foal's  mind,  and 
colour  the  last.  The  tone  of  the  foal's  pictures, 
even  at  the  end,  is  probably  low,  but  the  move- 
ment, definition  and  contrasts  quite  perfect. 

Here  foals  have  the  luck  to  be  born  mostly 
in  the  early  hours  of  a  sunny  morning  in  May, 
the  blessed  month  of  wild  flowers  and  sunshine. 
In  this  world  there  is  nothing  more  perfectly 
entrancing  and  delicious  than  to  be  out  in 
flowering  meadows  between  three  and  seven 
on  a  sunny  May  morning,  and  nothing  more 
inspiring  and  wonderful  than  to  be  present  at 
the  birth  of  a  foal,  and  to  watch  its  first  actions 
and  impressions  of  the  new  Hfe.  There  is 
much  for  reflection  in  the  first  actions  of  any 
foal ;  but  if  you  have  cared  for  and  petted  the 
mother  herself  from  a  foal,  and  her  mother 
before  her,  you  may  receive  the  revelation  of  a 
wonder  vouchsafed  but  to  few. 

But  first  of  the  mare — who  is  one  of  your 
dear  and  cherished  friends — who  loves  you  to 
handle  her.  Those  with  experience  in  such 
matters  can  foretell  with  considerable  accuracy 
the  near  approach  of  the  great  event.  The 
expansion  of  the  udder  with  milk  gives  the 
first  warning,  further  expansion  and  great 
hardness  the  next.     Tlie  final  indication  is  the 

187 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

coating  of  the  tips  of  the  teats  with  wax  and 
sometimes  the  actual  leakage  of  milk.  The 
vigorous  movements  of  the  foal  can  be  felt 
and  seen,  and  their  effect  on  the  mare  must  be 
noted.  Every  day  be  out  early,  rain  or  fine. 
If  a  wet  cold  snap  comes  on,  it  will  almost  surely 
delay  the  birth  until  after  its  close,  but  do  not 
count  on  this  with  too  great  certainty,  because 
other  causes  may  counteract.  It  is  a  kindly 
provision  of  nature  that  a  clear  still  morning 
with  good  warmth  in  the  early  sunbeams, 
quickly  taking  the  dew  off  the  grass,  does  help 
the  mare  to  her  conclusion;  so,  on  such  a  day, 
make  your  cup  of  tea  and  go  to  her  extra  early. 
If  she  is  feeding  as  usual  it  means  not  yet ; 
but  if  you  find  her  standing  or  l3dng  down  there 
is  probabihty.  If  she  is  standing  under  the 
shade  of  a  tree,  it  means  not  yet.  A  mare 
won't  foal  down  near  a  plantation  or  thicket — 
instinct  following  those  primeval  prejudices. 
You  can  judge  the  immediate  prospects  almost 
as  soon  as  you  get  to  her.  If  the  foal  occupies 
the  usual  position  there  will  be  delay,  but  if, 
from  the  changed  contour  of  the  flanks  of  the 
mare,  you  can  see  there  has  been  some  displace- 
ment rearwards  and  upwards,  you  will  not 
have  very  long  to  wait. 

You  can  judge  from  the  mare's  expression 
as  you  come  up  to  her,  and  the  turn  of  her  eye, 
whether  she  is  in  any  pain.  Pat  and  pet  her. 
She  knows  quite  well  what  is  going  to  happen, 

188 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  is  waiting  for  it.  You  can  see  that  she 
is  grateful  to  you  for  coming  to  be  with  her, 
for  if  you  move  away  a  pace  or  two  she  will 
almost  certainly  follow  and  stand  by  you 
again.  In  a  little  while  she  will  probably  rest 
her  nose  against  your  arm  and  quite  likely 
stand  there  just  touching  you,  for  the  confi- 
dence it  gives  her.  You  can  feel  the  tension 
when  the  pain  comes,  and  tell  just  how  long  it 
lasts.  If  a  bad  one  comes  she  will  push  against 
you  quite  hard.  Don't  talk  to  her.  Just 
stroke  and  pat  her. 

When  the  great  pains  begin  she  will  move  a 
Uttle  way  from  you  and  lie  down.  Her  eyes 
show  her  distress  as  they  seek  yours  in  appeal. 
Go  up  to  her  and  sit  down  in  front  of  her  head, 
for  when  the  paroxysms  come  she  may  want 
to  roll  over  on  either  side.  When  the  pains 
come  stroke  her  on  the  forehead,  hard.  Hold 
and  pull  her  ears  with  both  hands,  massage 
both  cheeks  together,  then  both  eyes.  You 
can  see  it  helps  her,  for  when  they  pass,  she 
wiU  rub  her  nose  against  you  and  may  even 
lick  your  hand.  Don't  talk  to  her  when  the 
pains  are  on,  just  pull  or  push  hard.  She  wiU 
have  intervals  free  from  pain  ;  then  get  up  and 
stroke  and  scratch  her  neck  and  head,  her 
back  and  sides.  She  wiU  he  flat  on  her  side 
in  her  rehef,  cocking  back  one  ear  the  better  to 
listen  to  what  you  may  say  to  her.  When 
you  go  back  and  sit  in  front  of  her  again,  her 

189 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

affection  for  you  is  apparent  in  her  every  action. 
More  great  pains,  with  a  visible  displace- 
ment of  her  burden,  then  the  final  great  con- 
vulsions. The  girding  up  and  concentration 
of  muscular  effort  is  immense.  The  muscles 
of  her  neck  stand  out  Uke  ropes,  her  teeth  are 
set,  and  in  the  paroxysms  of  her  anguish  her 
breath  is  forced  out  explosively  in  jerks  and 
moans.  As  you  bend  over,  stroking  gently 
behind  her  trembhng  ears,  even  in  this  ex- 
tremity her  wistful  soul  looks  out  to  you  in 
tender  regard. 

Now  the  actual  extrusion  begins.  First  a 
breaking  up  of  the  great  waters  which  had 
surrounded  the  membrane  enclosing  the  foal, 
and  whose  gradual  accumulation  has  allowed 
his  greater  freedom  of  movement,  and  are  now 
used  to  lubricate  and  ease  his  ejection.  Then 
the  protrusion  of  the  silvery  semi-transparent 
membrane,  so  deUcate  that  it  is  like  a  fabric 
of  white  silk,  and  hidden  within  can  be  dis- 
cerned, as  they  emerge,  shapes  of  two  tiny 
hoofs,  then  pasterns  and  fetlocks  and  the 
long  forelegs  and  knees.  All  are  masked  in 
this  beautiful  shroud,  with  its  delicate  tracery 
of  veins,  for  feeding  its  expansion  with  the 
growth  of  the  foal.  Examine  it  while  you 
may,  for  its  existence  and  use  is  soon  to  be 
over.  The  mare's  next  spasm  brings  the  out- 
line of  the  little  nose  into  view,  and  with  con- 
tinuous   efforts    the    whole    head    is    slowly 

190 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

projected.  Still  the  shrouded  foal  is  sur- 
prisingly quiet,  apparently  comatose  for  the 
time  being  ;  but  the  mare's  greatest  effort  is 
to  come  when  the  massive  bulk  of  shoulders 
and  chest  are  to  be  thrust  forth.  It  is  good 
to  be  here,  for  in  this  great  effort  you  can 
assist  most  materially  to  save  her  the  strain  and 
its  pains.  It  begins.  Seize  the  legs  of  the 
foal  and  pull  hard.  With  a  strange  elastic 
resistance,  the  form  of  the  little  creature 
emerges,  and,  as  that  wonderful  umbilical 
cord  is  severed  and  he  begins  his  independent 
existence,  the  shock  startles  him  into  con- 
sciousness. He  throws  out  his  head,  strikes 
out  with  his  forelegs,  the  enclosing  membrane 
is  broken  and  he  takes  his  first  breath.  He 
lies  on  the  grass  panting  and  gasping.* 

The  mare  lies  coUapsed,  and  for  a  while,  is 
wholly  unconscious,  lost  to  her  troubles  and 
dead  to  the  world.  Draw  the  little  fellow 
along  the  grass  by  the  forelegs  around  to  his 
mother's  head,  so  that,  when  she  recovers, 
her  foal  may  be  the  first  thing  she  sees.  It 
will  save  her  a  struggle  to  rise,  and  she  will 
be  quite  content.  She  will  know  you  have 
him  safely  in  charge  and  are  there  to  protect 
him  from  enemies  of  every  possible  kind. 
Let  her  rest  aU  she  can. 

*  The  first  and  supremely  important  thing  to  be  done 
immediately  after  the  birth  of  a  foal,  is  to  tie  up  and  sterilise 
the  umbilical  cord.  Many  foals  are  lost  every  year  through 
failure  to  take  this  precaution. 

191 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

]Now  examine  this  newly-born,  gasping, 
shivering  httle  person.  All  of  his  previous 
existence  has  been  so  warm  and  comfy,  that 
to  be  suddenly  ejected  from  his  agreeable 
habitation,  in  an  exceedingly  moist  condition, 
even  into  the  sunshine  of  a  May  morning,  is 
the  most  chill  and  most  surprising  experience. 
He  is  very  wet,  feels  the  cold  horribly,  and  is 
shaking  all  over  with  it.  He  sits  up  quite 
alert,  but  the  bright  sunshine  makes  him  bhnk 
and  shut  his  eyes.  His  ears  are  quivering 
mth  the  cold,  but  alreadj^  he  is  using  them — 
pricked  forwards  and  backwards  as  they  are 
attracted  by  the  early  morning  sounds,  the 
distant  bark  of  a  dog,  the  lowing  of  a  cow. 
What  a  perfect  httle  thing  he  is  !  That  tiny 
httle  nose  and  mouth  !  His  hps  are  moving, 
and  you  can  just  see  the  httle  pink  tongue. 
That  exquisite  httle  mane,  with  the  curl  in 
the  hair  and  the  beautiful  arch  of  his  neck  ! 
His  steaming  coat  shines  in  the  sun,  acurl  and 
wavy.  Look  at  the  long  yellow  legs  and  their 
clean-cut  firm  tendons  ;  the  very  perfection  of 
modelhng  ! 

Now  look  out  for  the  curious  and  most 
interesting  vestigial  zebra  markings,  which 
many  foals  possess,  especially  if  they  are  got 
by  Arab  sires.  The  markings  are  most  clearly 
distinguishable  at  birth  and  for  the  first  few 
weeks  afterwards,  but  fade  as  the  foal's  coat 
grows  longer,  and  it  quite  often  happens  that 

192 


S  m 


(f) 


OQ 


V    1. 

HI- 


Mare  Zebra    in     the  Jardin 
des    Plantes,   Paris 


Zebra   striping   of   chestnut 
foal— wave-line  curling  of  hair. 


r 

I 


Rotund   in   his  dun-coloured   stage  :  showing  his    Zebra   stripings 


[To  face  page  igs 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

when  the  foal's  coat  is  cast,  and  the  new  coat 
comes  on,  they  are  not  there  at  all.  You  may 
see  one  or  more  dark  lines  running  parallel 
along  the  spine  from  mane  to  tail,  with  strongly- 
marked,  cloudy  patches  on  the  wither  branch- 
ing off  into  rays  on  the  shoulders  and  ribs. 
Look  for  cross  stripings  on  the  inside  and  out- 
side of  the  knees  and  hocks,  the  forearms  and 
near  the  pasterns,  and  on  the  thighs  and  hind 
pasterns.  You  may  see  rays  on  the  neck 
and  chest,  and  on  the  ears.  But  the  most 
striking  of  all,  when  well  developed,  are  the 
concentric  semi-circular  markings  on  the  fore- 
head, and  the  stripes  on  the  cheeks  running 
down  to  near  the  nose.  The  arrangements 
of  the  markings  show  considerable  variation 
on  the  back,  loins  and  body ;  but  on  the  head, 
neck,  withers  and  legs  they  closely  follow  the 
striping  of  the  zebra,  and  prove  most  con- 
clusively that  right  away  towards  the  dawn  of 
equine  life  the  horse  and  zebra  had  common 
ancestors.  It  often  happens  in  bright  bays 
and  chestnuts  that  dark  marks  are  absent, 
but  the  striping  is  shown  by  wave  hnes  in  the 
hair.  On  the  forehead  this  is  particularly 
noticeable.*     Sometimes    a    wave-Hne    in    the 


*In  Toluca,  near  Mexico  City,  the  writer  in  1908  saw  and 
photographed  a  red  dun  pony  on  which  were  most  prominent 
zebra  markings  in  white,  or  rather  very  light  yellow.  The 
film  spool  containing  the  pictures  was,  with  several  other 
gpools  containing  photographs  of  remarkable  striped  ponies, 

193 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

hair  at  its  termination  becomes  a  coloured  line. 
Thie  colom'  of  the  very  early  horse  was  most 
probably  dun,  and  the  dun  pony  and  horse  of 
to-day  often  carry,  even  as  adults,  the  most 
pronounced  vestigial  zebraical  markings.  The 
colours  and  markings  of  horses  are  a  most 
fascinating  study.  In  grey  horses  the  zebra 
markings  sometimes  appear  as  white  stripes. 
The  white  "  trees,"  on  the  hind  legs  of  grey 
horses  with  dark  points,  are  a  subject  worthy 
of  extended  comparative  examination  and 
record. 

Then  see  the  curious  white  excrescences, 
attaching  themselves  hke  snowballs  at  the 
base  of  those  beautiful  feet.  They  are  worthy 
of  the  most  careful  and  special  examination. 
They  are  fibrous,  soft  and  springy,  almost 
Hke  greasy  rubber,  but  they  project  so  far 
that  clearly  they  would  interfere  with  his  walk- 
ing. Little  smears  and  pieces  are  already 
breaking  away.  Obviously  their  attachment 
is  temporary.  Do  you  know  what  they  are 
for  ?  They  are  lubricating  cushions  on  the 
sharp  edges  of  the  hoofs,  to  fend  them  from 
cutting  the  caul  when  the  foal  is  approaching 
maturity  and  exercises  the  muscles  of  his  legs. 
So  long  as  the  membrane  remains  intact,  the 
action  of  the  lungs  does  not  begin.     All  births 

most  unfortunately  the  subject  of  an  accident  in  which  they 
were  all  destroyed.  Naturally,  the  lost  pictures  were  the 
best  of  all  those  taken. 

194 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

are  not  as  straightforward  as  that  of  this  little 
man.  Wrong  presentations  sometimes  occur. 
Sometimes  the  foal  struggles  within  the  mem- 
brane, his  head  is  projected  and  withdrawn, 
and,  if  he  had  cut  the  membrane  with  his 
hoofs  and  had  drawn  but  one  breath,  he  would 
be  suffocated,  and  a  dead  foal  would  be  dropped. 
It  is  the  kind  of  provision  that  might  have 
been  suggested  by  an  Engineer  if  Nature  had 
called  him  in  to  advise  her  how  to  stop  the  killing 
of  colts  by  this  cause,  but  he  would  have  been 
puzzled  how  to  attach  springy  self-lubricating 
pads  to  the  hoofs.  To  Nature,  in  her  dull 
old  slow  way,  it  presented  just  no  difficulty 
at  all.  Why  should  it  ?  In  her  patent 
evolution  machinery  she  had  made  hoofs  from 
hair  by  the  simple  process  of  making  the  hairs 
adhere  together,  compressed  into  a  solid  and 
hardened  fibrous  mass  capable  of  withstanding 
hard  wear  and  tear  ;  so  why  should  she  not 
turn  another  handle,  and  arrange  a  prolonga- 
tion of  these  same  hair  fibres  beyond  the 
hardened  section ;  but  so  that  they  should 
become  more  and  more  gelatinous  as  they 
extended  and  finally  become  just  plain  lubri- 
cating material  ?  That  evolution  machine  of 
hers  is  a  marvel ;  and  that's  just  what  old 
Dame  Nature  did,  and  then  issued  her  survival 
of  the  fittest  edict  that  those  foals,  who  grew 
footpads,  should  have  the  better  chance  of 
living  to  propagate  their  kind,  and  that  those 

195 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

who  did  not  should  mostly  perish  untimely 
and  leave  no  descendants.  When  the  foal 
first  endeavours  to  get  up,  he  will  slip  on  his 
lubricators  leaving  thick  streaks  of  the  jelly 
on  the  grass,  and  it  is  only  when  the  softer 
ropy  mucilage  has  been  rubbed  off  and  worn 
down  to  the  harder  material,  near  the  hoof 
proper,  that  he  will  get  any  foothold  at  all. 

The  foal's  eyes  are  getting  more  accustomed 
to  the  brightness  of  the  light  and  although 
he  still  quakes  with  the  cold  and  blinks  a  Uttle, 
he  begins  already  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
things  of  this  wide  world,  in  which  he  has  so 
suddenly  found  himself.  Tlie  scent  of  the 
grass  is  the  very  first  thing  that  attracts  him 
and  he  puts  down  his  nose  to  touch  and  to 
smell  it.  Once  or  twice  he  does  so,  and 
approves.  It  is  the  grass  that  he  touches. 
He  knows  all  about  it,  and,  in  that  dreamland, 
has  seen  it  before  and  the  buttercups  as  well. 
A  big  buttercup  touches  his  nose,  but  he  dis- 
dains it,  and  pushes  down  to  the  young  grass 
that  his  dam  found  so  sweet.  The  mare  lies 
motionless  stretched  out  with  closed  eyes,  the 
foam  about  her  nostrils  and  mouth  and  on  the 
herbage,  telling  of  the  throes  of  the  struggle 
safely  past. 

With  clearing  vision  the  foal  looks  about  him. 
His  eyes  are  wide  open  now,  and  comprehension 
comes  into  his  gaze.  He  has  seen  all  these 
things   before,    mistily    maybe,  but    the  same 

196 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

things — grass  and  flowers,  trees,  sky.  He  has 
rested  quite  still  where  you  placed  him,  with 
those  long  legs  half  tucked  under  him — and 
they  are  so  dreadfully  long,  and  his  knees  so 
workmanUke  and  big.  A  foal  seems  all  legs, 
as  if  some  three  sizes  too  big  had  been  allotted 
to  him  in  error.  Wait  and  see,  they  are  his 
business  ends,  and  in  that  long  while  ago  it 
was  the  foals,  who  could  gallop,  survived. 

He  licks  his  Ups  and  opens  his  mouth  and 
makes  little  jerks  with  his  neck,  and  now  he 
puts  one  foreleg  out.  It  is  not  yet  a  full  ten 
minutes  that  the  little  horse  has  been  born,  and 
yet,  already  he  is  anxious  to  rise.  He  puts  the 
other  foreleg  out  and  makes  his  first  effort  to 
get  up.  He  slips  on  those  padded  feet,  and, 
in  the  excitement  of  the  tumble,  utters  his 
first  little  cry.  It  is  almost  like  the  bleat  of  a 
lamb  ;  but  it  penetrates  the  poor  fogged  brain 
of  the  mother,  and  instantly  she  is  awake,  ears 
forward,  eyes  straining  to  see  him,  and  she 
responds  with  a  faint  little  neigh.  She  tries 
to  rise,  but  is  too  weak — all  the  strength  has 
gone  out  of  her,  and  she  falls  back.  The  foal 
looks  round  and  stretches  his  little  face  to  her, 
and  again  that  little  bleat.  You  push  him 
forward,  so  that  she  can  just  touch  and  smell 
him.  A  little  further  still.  She  is  content, 
and,  still  lying  down,  just  licks  him  with  the 
tip  of  her  tongue,  her  eyes  closing  again  out  of 
pure    weakness.     But    only    for    a    moment. 

O  197 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend ' 

Bracing  herself,  she  rolls  up  on  to  her  knees, 
and,  trembUng  with  weakness,  eagerly  smells 
him  from  head  to  foot.  Yes,  it's  really  and 
truly  her  own. 

But  as  she  begins  to  lick  his  face  ever  so 
gently,  one  of  the  big  after-pains  overtakes 
her,  and  she  is  forced  to  throw  herself  down. 
After  the  struggle  she  is  exhausted,  but  happy, 
for  she  knows  you  are  looking  after  her  foal. 
You  talk  to  her,  and  it  helps  to  keep  her  quiet ; 
but  the  foal  is  getting  obstreperous  now.  He 
wants  to  get  up  and  means  to,  so  you  pull  him 
over  to  lie  flat  on  his  side,  and,  as  he  still 
shivers,  rub  him  to  warm  him.  He  Hkes  the 
rubbing  for  a  little  while ;  but  the  over- 
mastering desire  to  get  up  again  seizes  him, 
and  he  rolls  up  to  have  another  try.  He  gets 
as  tar  as  putting  some  weight  on  his  forelegs, 
then  flops  over  ignominiously  alongside  the 
mare,  where  for  a  time  he  is  pacified,  while 
she,  now  somewhat  recovered,  performs  her 
first  maternal  duty  of  licking  him  all  over. 
It  is  pretty  to  see  the  pleasure  it  gives  her. 
Then  energy  again  awakes  within  him,  and 
the  legs  are  astir.  His  sole  ambition  is  to  get 
up.  He  rises  on  his  knees  and  succeeds, 
groggUy  enough,  in  keeping  himself  up  thus 
far  for  a  few  seconds  ;  then  falls  over  on  his 
side  and  is  quiet.  But  only  for  a  little  while. 
There  is  something  more  than  mere  voHtion 
in  these  restless  efforts  to  get  up.     There  is 

198 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

that  within  him,  which  impels.  Dame 
Nature's  evolution  machine  has  been  at  it 
again  and  has  planted  that  hereditary  spur. 
The  foals  that  were  not  early  on  their  feet 
and  afield  had  the  lesser  chance  of  survival. 
Those  who  were  up  and  doing,  and  able  to 
gallop  within  the  fewest  number  of  minutes, 
survived  to  propagate  their  like.  It  is  one 
of  a  myriad  examples  of  the  inexorable  law 
of  the  survival  of  the  fittest. 

However  often  the  foal  tumbles  over,  the 
overmastering  impulse  is  immediately  again 
at  work.  Watch  him  for  a  httle.  The  mare 
herself,  with  enormous  effort,  gets  upon  her 
legs  and  stands  there  swaying  and  tottering, 
but  determined  not  to  go  down  again.  A 
Httle  yellow  milk  is  spurting  from  her  teats, 
and  she  rubs  the  foal  with  her  nose  and  con- 
tinues to  lick  him.  She  is  still  so  weak  that 
perforce  she  has  to  stand  where  she  is  and  let 
the  foal,  in  his  gymnastics,  wander  a  little 
away  from  her.  What  with  the  licking,  the 
evaporation  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  increasing 
warmth  of  his  body,  the  colt  is  steaming  and 
getting  dryer.  Not  the  worst  of  tumbles 
daunts  him  now.  He  has  learnt  the  trick 
of  putting  out  his  forefeet  wide  apart  to  steady 
his  swaying  and  is  trying  to  get  foothold  be- 
hind. Many  are  the  slips  until  the  hind  snow- 
balls disappear ;  but  he  struggles  on,  and 
when  he  does  get  a  real  grip,  his  propulsive 

199 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

power  is  so  great  that  he  gets  shot  over  on  to 
his  poor  httle  nose.  Is  he  discouraged  ?  Not 
a  whit.  He  tries  it  again,  and  gets  a  hke 
tumble.  He  learns.  Once  more  he  makes  a 
try,  and,  in  a  better  balance  of  muscular  efforts, 
he  is  actually  up  on  four  shaking  legs,  just 
long  enough  to  look  round  at  his  Mother  and 
give  a  little  bleat  of  victory.  Then  the  whole 
wobbling  structure  collapses,  and  he  is  on  the 
ground  kicking  out  his  disappointment.  He 
reassembles  himself,  and,  in  the  interval  of 
recoupment,  has  another  sniff  at  the  grass. 
He  knows  quite  well  what  it  is  for,  and  nibbles 
at  it. 

The  spur  is  at  him  again.  He  fights  his 
way  up  on  to  the  top  of  those  tall  legs,  remains 
perched  up  a  httle  longer,  wobbles  about  for 
his  balance,  succeeds  in  maintaining  it,  wobbles 
again,  and  tips  over.  He  is  perfectly  indomit- 
able. He  is  no  sooner  down  than  he  starts 
a  fresh  effort.  Look  at  the  hnes  of  resolution 
in  the  muscles  of  his  mouth  and  nose,  as  he 
makes  his  next  fight  to  get  up.  He  remembers 
what  happened  to  him  before,  and  is  very 
careful  when  he  gets  to  the  top.  Puts  restraint 
on  his  muscles  ;  wobbles  a  bit,  but  recovers  ; 
better  sense  of  balance  ;  draws  his  head  up, 
then  lowers  it  a  little  ;  puts  one  foot  a  little 
forward  and  finds  better  support ;  then  the 
next  and  another — near  risk  of  a  tumble  that 
time — but    recovery    of    balance    quite    good ; 

200 


THE    BIRTH    OF    A    FOAL 


In  the  search  for  sustenance  all  foals  invariably  start  at  the 
wrong    end 


Right— at   last  ! 


ITo  face  page  201 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

then  a  rest  with  a  new  sense  of  poise,  and  a 
bobbing  head  looks  round  at  the  dam.  He 
actually  tries  to  turn  in  her  direction,  makes 
three  wobbling  steps,  trips,  and  comes  down. 
It  has  been  big  business,  his  flanks  are  heaving 
with  the  exertion,  and  he  is  quite  glad  to  rest 
a  little.  But  again  the  spur,  and  he  is  up 
once  more,  making  uncertainly  towards  his 
Mother.  He  has  had  many  exertions.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  experiences  a  sen- 
sation of  hunger.  The  sensation  of  hunger 
and  his  Mother  are  somehow  inextricably  con- 
nected together  in  his  mind.  The  more 
hungry  he  feels,  the  more  he  wants  her. 

Tlie  mare  has  had  affairs  of  her  own  to 
attend  to,  and  is  resting ;  but  all  the  while 
she  has  kept  an  attentive  and  sometimes  even 
a  strained  gaze  on  her  foal  during  his  tumbles. 
But  she  has  been  in  no  fear  for  him,  partly 
on  account  of  her  confidence  in  your  presence 
to  protect  him  if  need  were,  but  mainly  because 
that  evolution  machine  of  Dame  Nature's  has 
implanted  the  hereditary  instinct  in  her  mind 
that  this  gymnastic  exhibition  of  her  colt,  to 
its  completion,  is  a  necessary  preliminary, 
both  to  her  feeding  him,  and  to  her  being  able 
to  take  him  away  if  danger  should  arise.  In 
the  wild,  foals  are  always  dropped  in  a  place 
far  removed  from  possible  attack.  The  in- 
stinct, that  this  performance  has  to  be  gone 
through  without  interruption,  is  just  as  deeply 

201 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

impressed  upon  her  mind,  as  the  instinct  to 
immediately  get  on  his  legs  is  impressed  on 
the  mind  of  the  colt.  Of  course  if  danger  did 
actually  arise,  from  a  dog,  from  cattle  or 
horses  on  the  move,  or  if  she  were  apprehensive 
of  such  danger,  she  would  be  by  her  foal  in  an 
instant  to  protect  him  from  all  comers  ;  and 
she  would  give  her  life  for  him,  whatever  her 
own  condition.  Safe  and  alone,  she  will  give 
the  foal  room  for  his  antics,  and  wait  patiently 
until  she  sees  that  he  has  surmounted  his 
difficulties  and  can  stand  up.  Then  she  will 
set  herself  to  give  liim  his  first  meal. 

The  foal  is  up  and  comes  doddering  along. 
Quite  Ukely  he  has  another  upset  on  the  journey, 
but  picks  himself  up  and  reaches  his  goal. 
He  is  glad  to  be  with  her  and  fumbles  at  her 
with  his  nose,  while  she  bends  down  and  licks 
him  most  lovingly.  The  conviction  in  the 
foal's  mind,  now  that  he  has  reached  her,  that 
his  Mother  has  to  do  with  food,  grows  infinitely 
stronger.  He  does  not  yet  know  what  to 
expect,  but  he  snuggles  his  nose  against  her  ; 
then  opens  his  lips  and  sucks  at  her  hair.  It  is 
not  very  satisfactory,  but  it's  better  than 
nothing.  He  tries  a  little  further  on,  with  no 
other  result.  But  his  hunger  increases,  and 
the  scent  of  his  Mother's  skin  sharpens  his 
appetite.  He  gets  impatient  and  pecks  at  her. 
Then  searches  about  her  forelegs  and  getting 
no   satisfaction,    positively   stamps   with   vex- 

202 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

ation,  loses  his  balance,  and  down  he  goes. 
The  mare  licks  his  prostrate  form,  but  the 
foal  is  not  enthused,  and  struggles  up  in  double 
quick  time  for  further  investigations. 

The  mare  sets  herself,  and,  wandering 
around,  the  foal  gets  right  on  to  the  target, 
but  misses  recognising  it,  although  he  comes 
away  with  a  streak  of  milk  on  his  nose.  But 
he  has  got  a  sniff  of  the  milk,  which  quite 
excites  him.  He  has  got  good  balance  now, 
although  still  wobbly.  He  is  dead  keen  on 
the  matter,  and  searches  all  sorts  of  impossible 
places  far  removed  from  the  real  source  of 
refreshment.  He  keeps  coming  round  to  the 
forelegs,  quite  obviously  of  opinion  that,  if 
the  source  isn't  there,  it  ought  to  be,  or  at 
least  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.  In  his 
peregrinations  he  has  twice  got  on  to  the  target 
itself,  and  has  again  passed  it  by.  The  mare 
is  utterly  patient,  but  is  convinced  that  in 
this  matter  of  search  for  sustenance  she  has 
got  a  fool  of  a  son.  He  is  getting  faint  with 
hunger  and  wanders  about,  a  little  aimlessly, 
just  smelling  around  in  any  old  place,  and 
entirely  by  accident,  alights  right  on  to  the 
very  thing.  Oh  !  such  a  suck  !  And  another, 
and  another  !  His  table  manners  are  deplor- 
able, for  those  sucks  can  be  heard  half  across 
the  field. 

Then  he  sets  himself  square  down  to  the 
business,  all  his  legs  planted  out  in  the  firmest 

203 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

support.  Suck — suck — suck.  He  pushes  so 
hard  that  the  milk  in  the  other  teat  is  forced 
out  in  a  fine  spray  over  his  nose  and  his  face. 
Nothing  matters.  He  is  glued  to  that  teat 
as  if,  once  lost,  it  would  be  lost  for  ever  and 
ever.  The  old  mare  is  frightfully  pleased. 
He  is  not  such  a  fool  as  she  thought.  The 
foal's  tail  is  ashake  in  the  ecstasy  of  that  first 
long  drink,  and  the  mare  bends  round  her 
head  and  licks  it  and  to  as  far  as  she  can  reach 
of  his  rump.  She  hcks  his  buttocks  and  hocks 
— he  is  her  very  own  foal. 

Every  good  thing  has  an  end  and,  suck  hard 
as  he  may,  Mr.  Foal  has  the  dreadful  fact 
forced  upon  him  that,  still  frightfully  hungry, 
the  sustenance  has  come  to  a  conclusion.  He 
tries  again.  No  result.  It's  altogether  too 
bad.  Once  more.  He  thought  he  had  got  a 
taste  of  it  that  time  and  perseveres,  but  no 
good.  This  is  terrible,  and  he  withdraws  to 
think  the  matter  over.  A  bright  idea  strikes 
him.  He  has  discovered  one  favoured  spot ; 
and  might  there  not  be  others  ?  He  renews 
his  search.  He  is  still  of  opinion  that  a  Refresh- 
ment Bar  should  always  be  right  in  the  fore- 
front of  the  premises,  and  accordingly  rein- 
vestigates all  the  country  around  his  Mother's 
forelegs.  Barren  of  all  result.  He  considers, 
and  it  occurs  to  him  that  he  has  not  yet  ex- 
plored the  off  side  of  his  dam  and  that  there 
might  be  surprises  there.     It  is  worth  trying^ 

204 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

so  round  he  waddles  on  legs,  kept  very  wide 
apart  for  stability.  It  is  no  accident  this 
time,  but  the  fair  reward  of  a  reasoned  out 
conclusion  and  a  diligent  search  over  a  very 
extended  area  that  he  at  last  discovers  a  second 
magazine  near  the  other,  loaded  with  the 
sustenance  he  is  seeking.  He  engages  and 
positively  engorges.  He  sucks  until  he  can 
suck  no  more  ;  backs  a  little  ;  replete  to  un- 
steadiness, he  circumnavigates  the  vitualler ; 
incontinently  tumbles  down,  and  immediately 
falls  fast  asleep.  The  mare  drops  her  nose  to 
give  him  just  one  touch,  and  then,  with  her 
head  held  a  little  low,  stands  on  guard.  She 
shuts  her  eyes  and  lazily  wags  her  long  tail 
to  flick  off  the  flies.  It's  more  than  likely  she 
gets  a  snooze  or  two  herself,  and  well  she 
deserves  them. 


All  this  time  you  have  kept  quite  quiet, 
lying  down  at  a  discreet  distance,  close  enough 
to  see  all  that  is  happening  and  to  give  the 
confidence  of  your  presence  to  the  mare,  and 
yet  far  enough  away  to  interfere  in  no  way 
with  the  foal. 

He  sleeps  for  a  good  half  hour,  then  awakes 
fuU  of  strength  and  energy.  He  is  in  no  doubt 
as  to  the  object  of  his  next  move.  Gets  up 
and  goes  straight  to  the  department  of  supply, 

205 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and  finds  that  fresh  stores  have  come  in,  and 
annexes  the  lot.  The  mare  has  been  waiting 
for  this,  and  now  that,  for  the  time  being,  she 
has  been  of  all  the  use  she  can  be  to  him,  and 
after  a  glance  to  see  that  you  are  still  there, 
she  decides  that  it  is  her  turn  to  take  a  rest, 
sinks  down  on  to  the  warm  grass  and  rolls 
over,  with  a  grunt  of  relief,  flat  on  her  side. 
This  is  a  surprise  to  the  foal,  and  at  first  he 
hardly  knows  what  to  make  of  it.  He  stands 
off  for  a  little,  all  eyes  and  ears,  then  some- 
what apprehensively  approaches  his  prostrate 
parent  and  smells  her.  She  seems  all  right, 
but  he  is  not  certain.  He  hesitates,  then 
moves  a  little  further,  puts  down  his  head 
and  smells  her  again,  and  so  on  until  he  finally 
concludes  that  there's  nothing  much  amiss. 
The  mare  Ues  motionless,  except  for  an 
occasional  flick  of  the  tail.  The  foal  is  full  and 
feels  quite  good,  and,  the  interest  in  his  parent 
having  subsided,  draws  himself  up  and  looks 
about  for  adventure. 

This  is  your  great  opportunity,  so  arise  quite 
slowly  and  stand  stock  still.  Then  it  is  that 
this  great  marvel  happens.  The  foal  looks  at 
you  ;  knows  you  ;  recognises  that  old  hat  and 
coat,  and  with  a  cheerful  toss  of  the  head 
makes  straight  for  you  without  any  hesitation 
whatever.  Right  up  to  you  he  comes,  affec- 
tion for  you  gleaming  in  his  beautiful  eyes,  and 
there — ^with   his   dear   nose — he   touches   your 

206 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

outstretched  hand  !  Lower  your  hand  quite 
slowly  and  he  follows  up  your  arm,  touching 
and  smelling  your  clothing,  lifts  his  nose  on  to 
your  waistcoat  and  looks  up  into  your  face. 
Put  your  hand  on  his  neck  and  stroke  him. 
Scratch  him,  he  loves  it.  Get  to  his  wither 
and  scratch,  and — O  Miracle  ! — he  scratches 
back.  You  can  handle  him  anywhere,  and 
in  any  way  you  like.  You  can  hft  either  fore- 
leg, or  lift  him  up  by  both.  He  has  seen  and 
liked  you  in  the  dreamland,  and  now  he  has 
come  to  you,  face  to  face,  he  accepts  you, 
right  there,  as  his  best  playfellow.  There  is 
no  doubt  as  to  his  real  affection  for  you.  You 
can  see  it  in  his  eyes.  Put  one  arm  round  his 
neck,  and  scratch  him  on  the  back  and  sides. 
He  goes  almost  wild  with  delight,  gives  little 
jumps  off  the  ground  with  both  forefeet  to- 
gether, twists  his  head  round  and  gnaws  at 
your  elbow.  Release  him,  and  take  a  step 
or  two  backwards.  Instantly  he  follows  up, 
and  pushes  hard  into  you,  begging  to  be 
scratched  again.  If  you  don't  he  will  stamp 
with  impatience,  and  if  that  is  no  good,  he  will 
jump  up  on  you,  quite  likely  putting  both 
feet  on  your  chest !  Give  him  a  real  good 
scratching  again,  like  his  Mother's  lickings,  all 
over.  It  entrances  him.  Then  lie  down  on 
the  grass,  take  off  your  hat,  and  keep  quiet 
and  see  what  he  will  do  to  you.  He  will  smell 
you  first  at  what  part  is  nearest,  and  work  up 

207 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

till  he  comes  to  your  head.  He  will  smell 
your  ear,  your  face,  your  hair,  and  then  make 
a  complete  examination,  finishing  up  with 
your  boots.  Apparently  all  is  satisfactory, 
and  he  is  thinking  of  the  next  thing.  If  j^ou 
still  keep  quiet,  it  will  intrigue  him,  and  he 
will  lift  up  a  forefoot  and  paw  you  with  it. 
Quite  slowly  and  gently  to  start  with,  but,  if 
he  fails  to  stir  you  up  he  gets  impatient  and 
paws  quicker  and  harder,  first  with  one  foot 
and  then  with  the  other.  Then  rise  slowly  on 
your  elbow  and,  as  slowly,  put  out  your  hand 
and  capture  his  foreleg.  He  is  not  afraid 
and  will  stop  the  pawing  to  bend  down  and  sniff 
at  your  fingers.  Shake  the  leg,  it  wiU  amuse 
him  and  he  will  himself  assist  in  the  shak- 
ing of  hands.  At  last  he  will  pull  back  to 
release  it,  but  he  will  be  quite  ready  to  do  it 
all  over  again.  Then  get  up — always  slowly — 
and  go  towards  the  mare.  He  will  follow ; 
push  into  you  ;  rub  his  neck  against  you  from 
intensity  of  pure  affection  for  you  ;  make  off, 
as  though  to  run  away,  and  come  back  to  you. 
That  you  should  be  made  thus  the  object  of 
the  pure  love  of  a  creature  so  newly  come  into 
the  world  is  an  experience  that  you  will  never 
cease  to  wonder  at,  and  for  all  your  life  the 
memory  of  that  entrancing  half  hour  will  be  a 
priceless  and  undimmed  treasure.* 

♦This  is  not  a  story  of  the  imagination.     It  happened  to 
the  writer  exactly  as  described.     Twice  since  then  have  his 

208 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

newborn  foals  recognised  him  in  almost  precisely  the  same 
way,  and  with  the  same  manifest  pleasure.  On  the  first 
occasion  the  wi'iter  was  so  dumbfounded  with  the  surprise 
of  the  occurrence  that  he  could  hardly  believe  his  senses. 
But  he  had  to  ;  for  there  was  no  mistaking  the  extraordinary 
personal  affection  for  him  of  the  newborn  foal.  The  two 
later  cases  put  the  matter  beyond  any  question  or  doubt. 
It  was  thus  that  he  was  led  to  consider  how  this  extraordinary 
thing  could  be,  and  to  develop  the  theory,  set  out  in  this 
chapter,  as  the  best  explanation  of  the  facts. 

It  would  greatly  interest  the  writer  to  learn  if  others  have 
had  any  similar  experience,  or  would  take  the  trouble  to  try 
to  obtain  it.  It  is  so  wonderfully  beautiful,  that  it  is  worth 
a  great  deal  of  personal  time  and  trouble.  He  has  been  a 
pony  breeder  for  about  18  years  and  his  animals  have  always 
been  very  devoted  to  him.  Nearly  all  carry  the  blood  of  his 
two  Arab  stallions,  Rohan  and  Marzouk  (Vide  G.S.B.Vol. 
XX.),  and  some  combine  it.  This  may  have  some  bearing 
on  the  case,  as  all  three  foals  had  Arab  blood,  and  the  first 
was  pure  Arab. 

To  any  who  desire  to  test  the  matter  independently,  the 
writer  suggests  that  they  should  follow  the  same  course  as 
that  by  which  the  results  were  produced.  Select  a  mare 
who  has  great  personal  affection  for  you,  and  let  her  be  covered 
by  a  staUion,  who  has  the  same  great  affection  for  you.  Keep 
the  mare  in  a  home  paddock,  so  that  you  have  many  oppor- 
tunities of  going  to  her  during  the  whole  period  of  her  preg- 
nancy. When  you  are  with  her,  pet  her  a  great  deal ;  handle 
her  all  over ;  scratch  her  neck  and  back  ;  give  her  a  little 
sugar.  If  you  can  help  it  never  miss  a  day,  and  be  with  her 
at  least  15  or  20  minutes  daily.  When  you  enter  the  paddock, 
call  her,  and  make  her  come  up  to  you,  which  she  wiU  do  at 
the  canter.  During  the  last  three  months,  that  is  to  say 
when  the  foal  receives  his  more  defined  impressions,  go,  if 
possible,  twice  a  day  to  the  mare,  taking  care  to  wear  the 
same  old  coat  and  hat.  The  mare  wiU  be  delighted  every 
time  with  your  attentions,  and,  if  the  theory  is  correct,  all 
these  impressions  are  duly  transmitted  to  the  foal,  and  become 
part  of  his  experience.  Do  your  best  to  be  present  at  the 
actual  birth  of  the  foal,  which  must  take  place  in  the  same 
paddock  in  which  all  these  impressions  have  been  received. 

209 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

In  a  stable,  or  in  another  field,  everything  would  be  un 
familiar  to  the  foal,  distracting  his  attention  from  you,  and  it 
is  an  object  that  it  should  be  concentrated  upon  you.     No 
stranger  should  accompany  you.     You  must  be  quite  alone. 

In  one  case,  the  writer  did  not  arrive  in  time  for  the  birth, 
and  the  foal  was  already  upon  its  legs.  The  foal  trotted  up 
to  him  at  once  with  the  same  extraordinary  manifestations 
of  pleasure  and  affection. 

August  18th,  1917.  Since  the  above  footnote  was  written 
two  more  foals  have  been  born  at  Goldings  this  year,  in  which 
instant  recognition  of  the  writer,  as  the  result  of  prenatal 
acquaintance,  was  conspicuously  demonstrated.  The  first 
was  a  colt  foal  (now  named  "  Kohan's  Last  Gift,"  as  he  was 
the  last  foal  got  by  the  old  horse  before  his  death  by  my 
hand  on  the  5th  August,  1917,  as  a  happy  release  from  great 
suffering)  by  my  Arab  Stallion  Rohan,  ex  Cubawinna,  dam 
Windermere,  who  had  arrived  in  the  early  morning  of  the 
5th  June,  about  half  an  hour  before  I  came  upon  the  scene 
and  was  still  in  the  climbing-on-to-his-legs  stage.  He  mani- 
festly recognised  me  with  pleasure  and  made  for  me  each  time 
he  got  up.  He  kept  whinnying  to  me  to  come  to  him,  and 
when  I  did  so,  rubbed  his  head  and  neck  against  me  from 
sheer  delight.  His  keen  affection  for  me  is  described  by  my 
friends  as  truly  remarkable. 

The  second  was  a  filly  foal,  "  Exmarsa,"  by  the  thorough- 
bred horse  Explorer  ex  my  mare  Marsanda  (by  Marzouk  ex 
Sanderling),  born  on  Sunday,  the  22nd  July.  Although  over- 
due the  filly's  arrival  was  quite  unexpected,  as  the  mare  had 
not  begun  to  make  up.  A  friend,  Mr.  WilMam  J.  Cambridge,  of 
Hazlewood,  Loughton,  had  called  to  see  the  amusing  ways 
with  me  of  "  Rohan's  Last  Gift,"  and  I  took  him  into  the 
home-field  to  find  the  little  colt.  It  was  seen  that  all  the 
mares  had  gone  into  the  sheds  to  get  away  from  the  heat 
and  flies,  and  as  I  entered  the  gate-way  into  the  shed  en- 
closure, I  found  a  wee  chestnut  foal  just  born,  which  Marsanda 
was  licking,  with  all  the  other  ponies  standing  round  in  a 
semi-circle  as  most  interested  observers.  It  was  lying  in 
a  very  awkward  place,  most  uncomfortably.  The  moment 
it  saw  me  it  stretched  out  its  little  head  and  neighed  to  me. 
It  tried  to  get  up  to  come  to  me.  I  petted  it  and  made  it 
happy,  and  then  determined  to  get  it  out  on  to  the  grass 

210 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

And  so,  playing  together,  you  come  back  to 
the  mare.  She  is  quite  strong  now,  and  so  is 
the  colt,  and  both  are  ready  for  anything. 
She  gets  up,  and  he  revictuals  himself.  When 
he  is  done  you  clap  your  hands,  and  the  mare 
takes  him  off  for  his  first  canter.  She  goes 
quietly  at  first,  looking  back  to  see  that  the 
foal  follows,  which  he  does  gaily.  Now  watch 
him  closely.  The  mare  starts  with  a  slow  trot, 
making  a  semicircle  to  let  the  foal  get  up  to 
her.  He  makes  a  short  cut,  dodges  round  a 
clump  of  quickly  growing  thistles,  and  a  little 
later  round  a  fallen  branch,  showing  that  he 
already  has  knowledge  of  what  they  are,  and 
that  they  are  things  to  be  avoided.  He 
reaches  his  mother,  and  from  pure  joy  bounds 
into  the  air  beside  her.  In  a  second  bound 
he  throws  his  forelegs  on  to  her  back.  This 
makes  her  increase  her  pace,  and  the  little 
chap  canters  alongside,  just  at  her  shoulder. 
He  is  going  quite  strong,  when  he  makes  a 
sudden  slip,  and  over  he  goes.  The  mare 
checks  herself,  sees  that  nothing  is  amiss,  and 

and  into  the  sun.  It  had  not  found  its  legs,  so  there  was 
difficulty  in  doing  so,  but  it  looked  upon  me  as  its  best  friend, 
and  did  all  it  could  to  help.  Finally  I  got  it  on  to  the  grass 
and  its  demeanour  to  me  of  pronounced  affection  excited 
Mr.  Cambridge's  extreme  surprise. 

As  he  is  the  only  man  who,  except  myself,  has  seen  this 
curious  and  interesting  phenomenon  of  recognition  as  the 
result  of  prenatal  acquaintance,  Mr.  Cambridge  has  kindly 
permitted  me  to  give  his  name  and  address  as  being  a  witness 
thereto. 

211 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

then  goes  ahead  a  little  slower.  It  is  evident 
she  thinks  she  may  have  been  going  a  little 
too  fast  on  this  first  run  round.  He  catches 
her  up  in  a  jiffey,  and  moves  along  with  his 
tail  aloft,  prancing.  Then  she  makes  a  pretty 
sharp  turn  away  from  him,  which  he  did  not 
expect,  and  so  overshoots  the  mark,  but  he 
joins  her  again,  after  a  wide  sweep.  She  goes 
through  this  manoeuvre  again,  and  this  time 
the  colt  is  more  ready  and  the  sweep  is  not  so 
wide.  She  is  taking  him  on  quite  a  long  trail 
through  the  field,  which  has  little  hills  and 
dales  in  it,  but  at  first  she  takes  care  to  run 
along  the  contours  and  not  across  them.  The 
mare  increases  her  pace  to  a  slow  canter  and 
makes  more  sharp  turns.  It  is  wonderful  how 
weU  the  little  chap  keeps  up,  and  without 
any  undue  exertion. 

There  is  a  large  pond  in  the  field,  formed 
by  a  high  dam  thrown  across  a  valley  ;  and 
although  the  top  of  the  dam  is  her  favourite 
short  cut,  she  carefully  avoids  it,  and,  to  keep 
him  out  of  harm's  way,  makes  a  long  detour 
around  the  pond.  They  do  a  mile  or  more  in 
this  winding  course  without  stopping,  and 
they  visit  every  part  of  the  field.  Then  the 
mare  now  does  a  rather  remarkable  thing ; 
she  makes  her  first  stop  at  a  long  wire  fence, 
with  the  clear  object  of  drawing  the  foal's 
special  attention  to  it.  Without  even  looking 
at  the  fence  he  proposes  to  utilise  the  halt 

212 


THE    BIKTH    OF    A    FOAL 


Investigating  the    Master 


A   first    lesson    in    deportment   at  four   days   old 

{To  face  page  212 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

for  the  immediate  intake  of  miore  sustenance, 
but  she  won't  let  him,  and  manoeuvres  him  so 
that  he  is  pressed  up  against  the  wires,  with 
his  head  under  hers,  and  so  that  he  cannot 
get  away.  She  keeps  him  there  for  two  of 
three  minutes,  then  trots  along  the  whole 
length  of  the  fence  and  returns  along  it,  and 
only  then  lets  the  thirsty  foal  have  his  drink. 

Up  at  the  stables  someone,  forgetful  of 
orders,  lets  loose  a  white  bull-terrier,  and  his 
dehghted  barking  fills  the  air.  You  see  him 
nosing  up  and  down  the  lawn  to  pick  up  your 
scent.  He  finds  it,  pushes  through  the  iron 
fence,  gets  on  your  track  and  comes  bounding 
across  the  field.  He  is  extremely  fond  of  the 
ponies  and  they  are  equally  good  friends  with 
him.  They  all  smell  and  lick  him  to  show 
their  keen  regard.  Sam's  last  job  at  night  is 
to  go  round  the  horses  and  ponies  in  all  the 
fields,  all  on  his  own,  to  see  they  are  all  right, 
and  it  is  his  first  job  in  the  morning  to  do 
the  same  round  as  soon  as  he  is  loosed.  Sam 
races  up  to  you  and  jumps  around  as  usual, 
then  catches  sight  of  his  old  friend  the  mare 
and  starts  off  to  pay  his  usual  respects.  Hullo  ! 
what  is  this  ?  She's  got  something  with  her  ! 
By  Heaven,  this  must  be  looked  into.  Sam 
is  usually  quite  obedient  and  stays — more  or 
less — at  heel  when  you  tell  him  to  ;  but  on  this 
occasion  the  excitement  is  altogether  too  much 
for  him ;  and  although  you  yell  at  him,  he  goes 

p  213 


Tlie  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

on — with  pauses,  because  your  yells  tell  him 
his  is  a  sinful  act — until  he  gets  near  the  mare. 
She  turns  to  move  away,  for,  although  she  is 
very  fond  of  Sam,  she  is  not  quite  certain 
that,  in  this  newness  of  things,  he  is  to  be 
altogether  reUed  upon  not  to  chase  the  foal. 
As  for  the  foal,  he  doesn't  move  ;  but  stands 
on  legs  very  wide  apart,  gazing  fixedly  at 
Sam.  He  has  seen  this  white  dog  in  the 
dreamland,  and  is  not  afraid  ;  but  the  trouble 
is  that  Sam  has  not  seen  him  ;  hence  the  ex- 
treme deUcacy  of  the  situation.  Sam  sits 
down,  quivering  with  excitement,  and  gazes 
equally  fixedly  at  the  foal. 

The  foal  is  taking  a  particular  interest  in 
Sam,  especially  since  he  sat  down,  and  doesn't 
move.  But  the  mare  continues  to  walk  away, 
expecting  the  foal  to  follow.  As  she  sees  he 
doesn't,  she  neighs  to  him,  and  the  foal  turns 
his  head  to  look  at  her.  Noting  the  growing 
distance  between  himself  and  the  commissariat, 
the  foal  gives  a  leap,  and  starts  after  his  mother 
at  full  gallop.  Too  much  for  Sam  !  who  is  up 
and  after  the  foal,  not  with  the  least  evil  intent, 
but  devoured  with  curiosity.  The  mare's 
apprehensions  are  aroused,  and,  calHng  the 
foal  loudly,  she  breaks  into  a  canter.  Now 
these  two  act  in  perfect  unison,  and,  without 
the  least  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  foal  as  to 
the  part  he  is  to  play,  he  races  up  to  her  far 
shoulder  and  keeps  his  place  there.     The  mare 

214 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

manoeuvres  herself  and  curves  her  path,  so 
that  she  always  keeps  herself  between  Sam 
and  the  foal.  Sam  has  never  seen  the  mare 
fly  away  from  him  before,  and,  with  the  added 
attraction  of  this  little  thing  racing  with  her, 
thinks  it  a  great  game  and  humps  himself  to 
get  up  with  them.  You  call  Sam  but  with  no 
effect,  and  the  race  continues  all  round  the 
field,  until  the  foal  begins  to  get  a  little  pumped. 
The  mare  sees  this,  and,  suddenly  facing  round, 
goes  for  Sam  with  open  mouth  and  forelegs 
viciously  striking  at  him.  Sam  was  out  for 
fun  and  not  for  a  fight,  so  turns  tail  and  plumps 
himself  down  in  some  long  grass.  All  that 
can  be  seen  of  him  above  it  are  his  eyes  and 
two  cocked  ears.  The  mare  goes  to  the  foal, 
who  has  dropped  behind,  sniffs  him  to  see  that 
he  is  all  right,  and,  catching  sight  of  you,  makes 
in  your  direction,  but  bending  her  head  to  keep 
an  eye  on  the  traitorous  Sam.  The  foal  follows 
slowly  behind,  but,  as  soon  as  he  sees  you,  up 
he  comes  at  a  trot  and  pushes  himself  boister- 
ously against  you.  You  pat  him,  scratch  his 
neck  and  back,  from  delight  of  which  he  rubs 
his  head  and  neck  vigorously  up  and  down 
your  waistcoat.  The  old  mare  comes  up  and 
touches  you  with  her  nose,  and  stands  by — 
still  with  an  eye  on  Sam.*  So  all  is  peace  and 
harmony  once  more,  and,  in  a  moment  or  two, 

*In  three  days  Sam  and  the  foal  were  inseparable  pals. 

216 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

the  foal,  forgetting  all  else,  is  busy  gathering 
in  his  rations. 


Consider  for  a  moment  what  you  have  just 
seen.  The  foal  has  shown  inteUigence  of  a 
high  order,  keen  affection,  courage,  good  judg- 
ment and  decision ;  all  of  which  depend  on 
experience ;  a  physical  capacity  to  gallop  at 
speed,  showing  that  his  bones,  muscles  and 
ligaments  are  in  fine  working  condition :  he 
has  recognised  the  meaning  and  potentiahties 
of  everything  he  has  seen  and  has  conducted 
himself  accordingly — and  he  is  not  yet  three 
hours'  old  !  Is  he  not  truly  the  most  wonderful 
thing  in  the  world  ? 


216 


TWO    MYSTEEIES 


CHAPTER  XIV 
TWO    MYSTERIES 

NOT  being  a  literary  genius  like  my 
cousin  Dion  Clayton  Calthrop,  I 
suspect  this  book  to  be  full  of  trans- 
gressions against  recognised  literary  canons ; 
but  it  seemed  good  to  try  to  avoid  strewing 
its  pages  with  an  everlasting  first  personal 
pronoun  singular,  and  in  this  I  have  managed 
hitherto  to  succeed ;  but  the  incidents  to  be 
related  in  this  last  chapter  are  so  very  personal 
to  myseK  that  it  has  been  beyond  my  abihty 
to  handle  them  in  the  same  impersonal  way. 


To  the  man  who  regards  his  horses  merely 
as  so  many  racing  or  hauling  machines  for 
making  money,  this  and  the  previous  chapter 
will  have  no  interest,  and  may  appear  ridicul- 
ous. There  are  others,  and  I  believe  a  good 
many,  who  will  appreciate  the  bearing  of  these 
experiences,  which  occurred  exactly  as  I  have 
related  them,  upon  the  psychological  inter- 
relationship of  men  and  animals.     At  all  events 

219 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

to  me  they  have  given  much  to  ponder  over  ; 
and  I  have  unfolded  them  somewhat  at  length 
in  order  that  the  precurrent  conditions  may 
be  understood. 


Shortly  after  the  dispersal  of  a  great  racing 
stud,  I  had  the  opportunity  in  1911  of  pur- 
chasing a  very  shapely  little  thoroughbred 
bay  mare  Windermere  (1901)  14-2 J  hds.  (by 
Pride,  ex  The  Lake  by  Barcaldine)  who  had 
been  covered  by  Persimmon's  well-known 
brother  Flor-di-Cuba  (by  Florizel  II.).  I  pro- 
posed to  breed  Polo  ponies  from  her.  When 
Windermere  first  arrived  and  was  turned  out 
into  the  home  field,  she  was  unusually  wild, 
and  refused  to  allow  anyone  to  approach  her. 
Evidently  at  some  time  and  in  some  way  she 
had  been  ill-treated,  for  she  hated  the  sight 
of  a  man;  and  it  was  several  weeks,  although 
I  used  my  most  persuasive  efforts,  before  she 
would  permit  me  to  get  anywhere  near  her. 
When  finally  she  did  surrender  to  my  blandish- 
ments, it  was  in  the  most  whole-hearted  way  ; 
but  she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  anyone 
else.  Probably  I  was  the  first  man  to  make 
a  real  friend  of  her.  Anyhow,  after  a  little 
while  I  could  do  anything  with  her,  and  when- 
ever I  came  into  the  field  she  raced  up  to  me 
and  refused  to  leave  me  while  I  was  there. 

220 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Whenever  I  crossed  the  fence  into  the  next 
field,  she  never  took  her  eyes  from  me,  but 
waited  for  my  return,  and  never  left  her  place 
at  the  fence.  Curiously  she  was  not  jealous 
of  my  attentions  to  other  ponies  in  her  own 
field,  and  when  I  went  up  to  them  she  waited 
nearby  until  I  was  free,  and  then  followed 
me,  wherever  I  went,  just  at  my  elbow.  If  I 
lay  or  sat  down  on  the  grass,  she  had  the  habit 
of  standing  behind  me  with  her  head  bent  over 
mine,  and  every  now  and  then  used  to  lick 
me  on  the  back  of  my  neck. 

I  never  can  resist  being  licked  by  a  horse  ; 
licking  you  and  gently  rubbing  his  nose  and 
head  against  you,  with  sometimes  a  gentle 
little  nip,  just  as  hard  as  he  would  give  to  his 
pet  mare,  are  really  the  only  means  available 
to  him  of  showing  the  running  over  of  his 
affection  for  you. 

When  Windermere's  foal  arrived  on  the  2nd 
May,  1912,  I  was  present  and  did  what  I  could 
to  help  her  ;  for  which  she  seemed  to  be  extra- 
ordinarily appreciative,  for  she  divided  her 
attentions,  and  licked  me  almost  as  much  as 
she  did  her  foal.  Her  filly  foal,  Cubawinna, 
became  a  great  pet;  and  during  that  summer 
the  pair,  when  they  saw  me  on  the  lawn,  or 
getting  over  the  railings  into  the  field,  in- 
variably raced  up  to  me  at  top  speed. 

When  weaning  time  came,  Windermere  was 
greatly   distressed   at   losing   her   foal,    and   I 

221 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

gave  her  a  good  deal  of  extra  petting,  which 
she  returned  with  many  signs  of  her  affection 
for  me.  It  was  at  that  time  that  she  got  badly 
entangled  one  night  in  a  wire  fence  ;  so  badly 
that  she  could  not  move.  I  heard  her  calling 
to  me  when  I  awoke  about  6  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  got  up  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  As  I  came  up  to  her,  she  kept  on 
whinnying  to  me,  to  tell  me  all  about  it.  After 
a  great  deal  of  work  I  got  her  out  of  the  trouble. 
She  realised  I  was  helping  her  ;  did  not  struggle, 
and  did  just  what  I  wanted  her  to  do. 

She  always  knew  when  Saturday  afternoon 
and  Sunday  came  ;  for  on  those  days — and 
not  on  any  other  weekday — she  would  always 
feed  quite  near  the  iron  railing  of  the  garden, 
or  stand  for  a  long  while  looking  over  it^  on  the 
oS  chance  of  seeing  me.  If  she  saw  me  in  the 
distance,  she  kept  on  whinnying  until  I  went 
up  to  her.  I  mention  these  things  to  show 
that  I  had  a  very  special  attraction  for  her. 


In  the  early  morning  of  the  18th  March,  1913, 
at  3.20  a.m.  I  was  awakened  from  the  most 
dense  sleep  ;  not  by  any  noise  or  neighing — 
but  by  a  call  conveyed  to  me — I  know  not 
how — from  Windermere.  I  could  hear  no- 
thing— not  a  sound  outside,  although  it  was  a 
perfectly   stiU   night — but   as   I   became   fully 

222 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

conscious  I  felt  the  call  in  my  brain  and  nerves, 
and  I  knew  that  Windermere  was  in  direst 
extremity,  and  was  entreating  me  to  come 
instantly  to  her  aid.  I  threw  a  coat  over  my 
pyjamas,  pulled  on  my  boots  and  ran  across 
the  garden  for  all  I  was  worth.  There  was  no 
cry;  but  in  some  extraordinary  way  I  could 
tell  exactly  from  what  direction  this  soundless 
S.O.S.  call  was  coming,  although  it  was  per- 
ceptably  feebler  than  when  it  awoke  me.  As 
soon  as  I  left  the  house  I  realised,  to  my  horror, 
that  the  call  came  from  the  direction  of  the 
pond.  I  ran  on,  but  the  S.O.S.  became  fainter 
and  fainter,  and  had  ceased  altogether  before 
I  could  get  to  the  pond.  As  I  came  near,  I 
could  just  make  out  the  surface  of  the  water 
covered  with  ripples,  which  had  not  yet 
subsided,  and,  in  the  centre,  a  dark  mass 
silhouetted  against  the  reflection  of  the  dim 
light  of  the  sky.  I  knew  it  was  the  body  of 
poor  Windermere  and  that  she  was  dead. 


The  poor  mare  was  not  got  out  until  midday, 
and  it  was  not  till  then  that  we  understood 
exactly  what  had  happened.  That  she  had 
evidently  gone  for  a  drink  from  the  steep  side 
of  the  dam  and  had  shpped  in,  we  already 
knew  from  the  marks  on  the  grass,  which  were 
plain  to   see ;   but   we  could  not   understand 

223 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

why  she  had  not  been  able  to  swim  ashore. 
In  the  water,  which  was  very  deep,  she  had 
struck  out  to  swim  and  in  some  way  had  thrown 
her  right  foot  through  her  head-stall.  She 
had  made  a  most  gallant  struggle  to  free  her 
leg,  as  the  condition  of  the  headstall  showed. 
She  had  broken  part,  and  the  rest  was  nearly 
broken  through — a  little  more  and  she  would 
have  been  free.  In  her  death  agony  she  slipped 
a  filly  foal  by  Rohan,  and  its  poor  little  body 
was  found  floating  beside  its  Mother's. 


I  can  only  relate  the  facts.  I  cannot  explain 
them.  Call  it,  if  you  please,  a  case  of  mental 
telepathy,  but  it  does  not  get  one  very  much 
nearer.  One  deduction  does,  however,  emerge 
with  clarity — the  receiving  and  transmitting 
apparatus  must  have  been  very  closely  attuned. 
I  loved  the  mare,  and  the  circumstances  of  her 
death  made  the  most  profound  impression  upon 
me.  Even  now,  if  I  catch  sight  of  anything 
floating  in  that  pond,  with  the  smallest  resem- 
blance to  what  I  saw  that  night,  the  memory 
of  it  gives  a  stab  at  my  heart. 


I  have  never  known  a  cheerier  foal.  She 
was  the  gayest,  most  lighthearted,  happiest, 
merriest  little  fairy  that  ever  was  born.     She 

224 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

lived  but  a  little  time  on  this  earth  ;  but  there 
is  one  who  to  his  dying  day  will  never  forget 
her.  In  colour  she  was  the  most  perfect  golden 
chestnut ;  a  coat  as  soft  as  silk  and  the  brilliancy 
and  sheen  of  it  was  a  thing  to  marvel  at.  Her 
mother  was  the  chestnut  thoroughbred  Mafia 
(1900)  by  Orvieto  by  Bend  Or,  ex  Countess 
Macaroni  by  Victor  Chief  (see  G.S.B.  Vol. 
XX.),  and  her  sire  was  my  grey  Arab  Stallion 
Marzouk  (G.S.B.  Vol.  XX.).  It  was  in  the 
early  days  of  my  Httle  stud  at  Goldings,  and 
Mafia  was  the  first  thoroughbred  mare  I  bought. 
I  made  much  of  her  and  she  became  greatly 
attached  to  me. 

Marmafia  was  the  first  foal  I  helped  to  bring 
into  the  world.  It  was  a  wonderful  May 
morning  after  a  most  exquisite  sunrise  of  pearl 
and  opal — a  day  to  be  thankful  one  was  aHve 
to  see.  And  the  watching  of  this  great  mystery 
of  birth  and  the  after  happenings,  made  it  a 
wonderful  day  indeed  to  me.  Marmafia  was 
cheery  and  liked  me  from  the  very  beginning. 
I  remember  how  astounded  I  was  at  the  self- 
possession  and  acuteness  of  a  thing  so  newly 
born.  I  had  seen  babies,  puppies  and  various 
other  little  beasties  shortly  after  their  birth, 
and  had  expected  something  of  the  same 
inertness  and  helplessness ;  but  here  was  a 
creatmre,  ten  minutes'  old,  who  knew  all  about 
things  !  I  was  lying  on  the  grass  stroking  the 
little  thing  and  scratched  her  on  the  wither, 

225 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

and,  hang  me  !  if  she  didn't  turn  her  head 
round  and  scratch  me  back  on  the  arm.  I 
started  in  amazement,  for  it  was  one  of  the 
most  curious  experiences  I  had  met  with  in 
a  somewhat  variegated  Hfe.  I  did  it  again  and 
again  ;  and  every  time  I  scratched  her  wither 
and  shoulder,  she  scratched  back  !  To  a 
knock-down  fact  of  this  kind  there  is  no  gain- 
saying, and,  as  the  French  say,  it  gave  me 
furiously  to  think.  I  did  not  know  then  as 
much  as  I  do  now  about  the  arrival  of  foals, 
and,  when  she  commenced  the  struggle  to  rise 
and  kept  falling  back,  I  took  compassion  on 
her  weakness  and  helped  her  to  get  up.  I  did 
a  great  deal  for  her,  which  later  I  learnt  to 
watch,  with  spell-bound  interest,  other  foals 
doing  for  themselves.  I  helped  her  to  stand 
up  and  balance  herself  and  then  to  make  a 
step  or  two  forward.  This  took  me  quite  a 
while,  and  the  mare,  when  she  began  to  get 
better  and  able  to  notice  things,  kept  a  watch- 
ful eye  on  all  these  proceedings.  The  energy 
this  little  beast  expended  in  its  continual  efforts 
to  get  up  was  surprising  and  I  had  to  let  it  lie 
down  a  time  or  two  to  rest,  when  the  mutual 
scratchings  were  repeated  with  increasing 
ardour.  It  was  a  great  time,  and  I  don't 
know  who  enjoyed  the  fun  the  more,  the  foal 
or  I. 

After  a  while,  I  got  her  so  that  she  retained 
her  balance  quite  nicely  standing ;  but  she  was 

226 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

still  very  wobbly  when  she  tried  to  move 
ahead  and  I  had  to  steady  her.  She  gradually 
improved  so  that  I  was  encouraged  to  let  her 
try  to  go  ahead  herself,  which  she  essayed  to 
do,  meeting  with  signal  disaster  after  about 
ten  steps.  She  was  not  at  all  happy  on  the 
grass  and  her  eyes  plainly  invited  me  to  give 
her  assistance  to  get  up.  There  were  perhaps 
a  dozen  of  these  catastrophes,  and,  each  time 
she  went  down,  she  waited  for  me  to  help  her 
up.  She  had  learnt  that  it  was  easier.  Once 
up  she  was  quite  happy  and  quite  willing  to 
stay  by  me  ;  all  the  more  so,  because  she  so 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  scratching  I  gave  her 
on  the  neck  and  back.  Then  she  began  to 
nibble  and  suck  at  my  coat.  Pangs  of  hunger 
had  seized  her.  There  was  some  sugar  dust  in 
the  bottom  of  the  sugar  pocket,  and  I  wetted 
my  finger,  and,  sugar-coated,  put  it  in  her 
mouth.  There  was  no  delay  in  the  decision 
she  took  about  that !  My  aunt,  how  she 
sucked  !  She  was  perfectly  wild  after  it  !  I 
backed  a  little  and  she  was  after  me  in  a  second 
— knew  it  was  the  fingers  that  tasted  so  good, 
and  wasn't  happy  till  she  got  them.  There 
were  no  more  falls  after  she  bad  tasted  the 
sugar  !  She  followed  me,  all  on  her  own, 
for  quite  a  hundred  yards,  without  one  tumble. 
With  the  exception  of  once  or  twice,  when 
from  weakness  or  pain  she  lay  flat  on  her  side, 
the   mare  never  took   her  eyes  off  the  foal ; 

227 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

but  she  knew  me  so  well  that  it  was  plain  she 
was  content  to  leave  the  foal  in  my  charge. 
As  I  brought  the  foal  near,  the  mare  whinnied 
and  endeavoured  to  rise ;  but  had  not  the 
strength.  So  I  took  the  little  thing  right  up 
to  her,  and  their  noses  met.  The  foal  was 
enormously  interested,  smelhng  the  mare's 
face,  her  eyes  and  her  ears  ;  and  the  mare 
Hcked  the  foal's  feet  and  its  forelegs,  as  high 
as  she  could  reach.  It  was  a  pretty  sight  to 
see  the  affection  in  the  mare's  eyes.  Then  I 
took  the  foal  away  a  little,  and  the  mare  made 
another  effort  to  get  up.  Very  tottery  at  first, 
she  came  slowly  along  to  the  foal.  She  smelt 
it  all  over  and  then  began  to  Uck  it.  The 
foal  stood  with  legs  very  much  apart,  balanced 
well,  and  evidently  liked  it. 

After  a  little  she  turned  and  sniffed  at  the 
mare's  chest  and  began  to  suck  it  and  I  moved 
away  to  see  what  would  happen  next.  The 
foal  got  more  and  more  agitated  and  sucked 
hard  and  began  to  seek  for  more  solid  susten- 
ance. The  mare  set  herself  to  accommodate, 
but  the  foal — and,  as  I  found  out  afterwards, 
they  never  are  at  first — was  not  successful  in 
its  search.  Like  so  many  of  the  others  I  have 
since  seen,  it  seemed  to  have  made  up  its  mind 
that  what  it  sought  was  to  be  found  near  the 
mare's  front  legs,  and  would  not  get  away  from 
there.  With  my  superior  knowledge  I  en- 
deavoured   to    assist ;    clasped   the    foal,    and 

228 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

urged  it  to  come  with  me.  Not  a  bit  of  it  ! 
It  got  quite  impatient,  and  when  by  main 
force  I  brought  its  little  nose  to  the  right  place, 
it  rejected  my  advice  and  struggled  most 
desperately.  Every  time  I  tried  to  get  contact 
it  was  the  same.  At  last  a  happy  thought 
struck  me  !  I  put  my  finger  in  the  sugar  dust 
and  offered  it  to  the  foal.  Instant  success  ! 
The  vacuum  inside  that  foal  was  something 
terrible.  I  just  drew  my  finger  along  and  the 
foal  followed  up,  and  held  on  to  the  finger 
like  grim  death,  in  one  perpetual  suck.  With 
some  manoeuvring  I  got  my  finger  alongside 
the  proper  article,  and,  with  a  jerk,  transferred 
it  into  the  finger's  place.     Eureka  ! 


That  was  the  beginning  of  the  acquaintance. 
I  was  simply  fascinated  with  my  new  treasure, 
and  hurried  back  from  my  work  in  the  City 
to  learn  more  of  this  world  of  new  problems 
which  it  presented.  Putting  on  the  old  coat 
with  the  sugar  pocket,  I  made  my  way  in  the 
home  field  to  where  the  mare  was  busy  feeding. 
The  foal  was  close  by,  sound  asleep.  I  ap- 
proached as  quietly  as  possible  not  to  awake 
it ;  got  within  five  yards  and  lay  on  my  elbow 
in  the  grass.  It  was  not  me,  but  a  very  per- 
sistent fly,  that  eventually  awoke  it.  It  kicked 
a  httle  in  its  sleep,  but  the  fly  came  back  each 

Q  229 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

time  to  the  identical  spot.  A  few  more  of 
its  own  kicks  awoke  the  foal,  but  it  still  lay- 
lazily  with  its  eyes  only  beginning  to  open. 
Then  suddenly  it  put  up  its  head  and  caught 
sight  of  me.  To  my  exceeding  joy  it  wasn't 
a  bit  frightened ;  looked  hard  at  me,  and,  with 
obvious  pleasure,  recognised  its  p?i  of  the 
morning !  I  did  not  know  then  what  an 
enormous  attraction  a  man  lying  down  motion- 
less, even  a  stranger,  has  for  a  foal.  I  kept 
perfectly  quiet  and  left  the  next  move  to  the 
foal.  Looking  at  me  it  rolled  up  on  to  a  level 
keel,  leisurely  put  out  one  foreleg  straight  in 
front  of  it,  then  the  other  ;  made  as  though  it 
would  get  up,  but  abandoned  the  effort.  Then 
it  yawned  two  or  three  times,  and  indulged  in 
a  most  tremendous  stretch.  Thus  refreshed, 
it  looked  at  me  steadily  for  a  few  seconds,  then 
gravely  nodded  its  head  up  and  down  as  though 
coming  to  a  decision.  I  lay  low  and  said 
nothing.  It  got  up,  shook  itself,  stretched  one 
hind  leg  out  almost  horizontally,  and  then  came 
along.  I  kept  dead  still.  Tlie  foal  came  and 
smelt  me  ;  starting  with  my  arm  and  working 
up  to  my  shoulder,  it  became  especially  inter- 
ested in  my  ear.  What  the  special  attraction 
was  I  could  not  guess.  It  smelled  up  and 
down  me  several  times,  but  always  came  back 
to  the  ear,  and  with  its  lips  played  with  it. 
In  the  course  of  this  investigation  she  pushed 
my  hat  off.     It  startled  her,  but  after  a  pause 

230 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

she  investigated  the  hat,  dismissed  it,  and 
returned  to  the  ear.  The  smell  tests  having 
concluded  quite  evidently  in  my  favour,  I 
awaited  Avith  interest  the  further  development 
of  the  inquest.  Quite  slowly  she  1^'fted  a  fore- 
leg and  put  it  in  the  middle  of  my  back  !  Two 
or  three  times  she  stroked  me  with  it,  and 
then  put  it  down.  Then  she  smelled  me  some 
more,  and  lifted  the  other  leg  and  pawed  at  me 
again.  Then  I  put  my  hand  out  and  shook 
hands  with  her,  which  amused  her  vastly. 
Holding  her  leg  T  moved  it  up  on  to  my  knees, 
took  hold  of  the  other  leg,  and,  as  I  rose  up, 
lifted  her,  and  put  her  feet  on  my  chest.  She 
did  not  even  attempt  to  struggle,  but  seemed 
to  think  it  an  ordinary  proceeding,  and  quite 
part  of  the  game.  She  had  no  fear  of  me  at 
all,  and  raised  her  little  head  to  my  face  as 
though  1,0  kiss  me.  I  was  so  dehghted  and 
thrilled,  that,  although  it  was  many  years  ago, 
I  remember  it  all  as  though  it  were  yesterday. 

Lifting  her  up  and  putting  her  forefeet  on 
my  chest,  and  later  over  my  shoulders,  did, 
in  fact,  become  an  ordinary  proceeding.  She 
loved  it — especially  when,  in  this  position,  I 
scratched  her  with  both  hands  on  the  withers 
and  back — so  much  so,  that  she  got  into  the 
way  of  jumping  up  of  her  own  accord,  and, 
what  was  really  surprising,  was  the  extraordi- 
nary gentleness  with  which  she  put  her  fore- 
feet on  me.     She  took  the  greatest  care  to  not 

281 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

in  any  way  hurt  me.  When  she  was  about 
a  month  old  she  always  saluted  me,  on  my 
first  coming  into  the  field,  in  this  way — then 
would  scamper  back  to  her  mother,  jump  up,  put 
her  feet  momentarily  on  her  back,  and  race 
back  to  me  to  give  me  another  embrace.  But 
always,  notwithstanding  her  high  spirits,  with 
the  utmost  gentleness.  Often  when  following 
me  about  the  field,  if  she  thought  I  was  taking 
insufficient  notice  of  her,  she  would  rear  up 
and  put  her  forelegs  over  my  shoulder.  I 
would  catch  hold  of  her  feet  and  she  would 
walk  Hke  this  quite  a  long  way.  Her  capers 
were  wonderful.  She  always  indulged  in 
gymnastics  in  the  double  run  between  me  and 
her  mother,  rising  up  often,  with  her  forelegs 
high  in  the  air,  and  going  on  her  hind  legs 
alone.  Then  she  would  dip  down,  and  give 
almost  vertical  kicks  in  the  air  with  her  hind 
legs ;  finishing  up  with  the  most  marvellous 
series  of  bounds  and  bucks,  all  the  while  squeal- 
ing with  dehght. 

That  was  before  the  days  of  the  biograph, 
and  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  have  now  a 
record  on  the  film  of  some  of  her  wonderful 
exhibitions.  They  were  the  very  acme  of 
beautiful  physical  movements  prompted  by 
the  sheer  dehght  of  being  ahve,  and  I  do  not 
conceive  how  they  could  possibly  be  excelled 
by  any  Uving  thing.  One  of  her  most  remark- 
able gaits  was  a  prancing]  movement,  with  her 

232 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

nose  high  in  the  air,  neck  arched  and  drawn 
far  back,  tail  high  and  waving  hke  a  flag,  and 
picking  up  her  feet  for  all  the  world  as  if  she 
had  been  taught  the  Spanish  walk.  Out  of 
sheer  excess  of  spirits,  she  would  race  up  to  the 
other  mares  in  the  field  and  treat  them  as  she 
did  her  own  mother.  At  first  they  resented 
it,  but  after  a  while  they  regarded  her  as  a 
specially  privileged  person,  and  really  liked  it. 
They  always  watched  her,  as  one  watches  a 
Star  Performer,  when  the  fit  came  upon  her  to 
play  these  mad  pranks.  They  were  really 
fond  of  this  little  sprite,  and  two  of  them, 
who  had  their  own  foals,  did  a  thing  which  I 
have  not  seen  before  or  since — they  allowed 
her  an  occasional  suck — a  privilege  indeed. 

She  never  left  me  for  long,  whenever  I  was 
in  the  field.  She  got  to  know  the  sugar  pocket 
so  well  she  would  put  her  nose  in  it  and  posi 
tively  refuse  to  take  it  out  until  she  had  grabbed 
at  least  one  lump.  She  would  always  suck  or 
lick  my  fingers  whenever  I  gave  her  the  chance. 
If  I  sat  on  the  grass  she  would  come  behind 
me  and  put  one  foreleg  over  my  shoulder,  and 
sometimes  both.  She  would  take  my  hat  off  and 
shake  it,  drop  it  on  the  grass,  and  then  nibble  at 
my  ears.  She  always  had  a  fancy  for  my  ears. 
I  cannot  conceive  why,  and  licked  and  nibbled 
at  them,  but  never  once  hurt  me.  Her  gentle- 
ness in  everything  she  did  was  her  great 
characteristic.     She  was  tremendously  keen  in 

233 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

searching  for  my  handkerchief,  which  she 
would  pull  out  of  my  pocket.  The  first  time 
that  she  got  it  entirely  out  was  the  only 
occasion  on  which  I  ever  remember  to  have 
seen  her  really  scared.  There  was  a  big  wind, 
and  as  she  pulled  it  out  it  flapped  across  her 
chest.  She  gave  a  big  jump  and  broke  away 
at  a  gallop,  with  the  handkerchief  still  in  her 
mouth.  It  fluttered  in  the  wind  and  scared 
her  still  more,  but  she  wouldn't  or  hadn't  the 
sense  to  let  it  go  ;  and  there  she  was  racing  all 
round  the  field  in  the  maddest  way,  with  the 
handkerchief  alternately  beating  against  her 
neck  or  fluttermg  in  front  of  her.  It  was  a 
truly  comical  sight,  and,  only  after  she  had 
gone  round  the  field  several  times,  did  she 
drop  it  through  stumbling  and  having  to  open 
her  mouth.  It  was  characteristic  of  her  that 
she  followed  the  handkerchief  as  it  blew  along 
the  grass,  and,  when  it  came  to  rest,  smeUed 
and  pawed  it,  and  then  came  back  to  me. 
For  some  days  afterwards  she  was  still  a  little 
scared  when  she  pulled  the  handkerchief  right 
out ;  but  afterwards  it  became  one  of  her  most 
cherished  accomphshments.  She  would  race 
up  to  her  mother  and  the  other  mares  with  it 
in  her  mouth  and  scare  them  to  death,  to  her 
own  infinite  delight.  Never  before  or  since 
have  I  seen  such  a  merry  little  creature  with 
such  a  keen  idea  of  fun.  I  never  got  tired  of 
watching  her.     She  was  always  doing  some- 

234 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend  * 

thing  original  and  amusing,  and  often,  I  am 
sure,  to  please  me.  Wlien  I  called  to  her  she 
would  come  to  me  like  a  dog. 

In  many  of  her  funny  little  ways  she  re- 
minded me  irresistably  of  a  Shire  cart  foal 
whose  most  ardent  affection  I  had  managed, 
when  a  small  boy  of  five  or  six,  to  draw  down 
upon  my  devoted  head  ;  but  that  cart  foal  was 
so  much  bigger  than  I  was  then  that  he  used  to 
bully  me  quite  a  bit.  Marmafia  had  the  habit 
of  pressing  up  against  me  as  though  physical 
contact  with  me  gave  her  keen  pleasure,  and 
she  used  to  rub  her  head  and  neck  against  me 
in  a  frenzy  of  affection.  So  did  the  long-ago 
Shire  foal,  but  I  was  so  small  then  that  in  the 
vigour  of  his  amiability  he  used  often  to  knock 
me  down,  to  the  great  amusement  of  my 
father  and  his  friends  ;  but  I  loved  that  big 
and  strong  cart  foal  very  dearly  all  the  same, 
and  we  were  inseparable  pals. 


This  little  Marmafia  had  a  very  happy  sum- 
mer, when  her  mother,  who  had  not  done  well 
and  had  had  to  have  veterinary  attention, 
sickened,  and  one  morning  was  found  dead, 
with  the  poor  puzzled  foal  standing  beside  her. 
It  was  a  great  misfortune,  and  the  little  thing 
missed  her  mother  very  much  and  often  called 
for  her ;  sometimes  most  piteously .  So  I  was  left 

235 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

to  do  what  I  could  for  the  orphaned  filly.  She 
was  brought  up  to  the  stables  and  given  cow's 
milk  and  everybody  petted  her,  but  it  did  not 
suit  her.  She  had  commenced  to  feed  on  the 
grass,  and  the  vet.  advised  that  she  should 
again  be  turned  into  the  field.  The  two  other 
mares  helped  her  a  bit,  but  naturally  kept  most 
of  their  milk  for  their  own  foals.  I  impressed 
upon  the  vet.  how  fond  I  was  of  the  little  thing, 
and  begged  him  to  spare  no  trouble  or  pains 
to  get  her  well ;  but  the  event  proved  that  his 
science  was  unequal  to  the  emergency.  Even 
now  I  cannot  bear  to  look  back  upon  this 
time.  The  httle  thing  was  ill  and  unhappy. 
It  was  a  sore  trial  to  me  to  feel  how  helpless  I 
was  in  such  a  case.  The  filly  was  obviously 
losing  flesh,  but  everjrthing  was  done  for  her 
which  the  vet.  directed. 


After  her  mother's  death  the  intensity  of  the 
foal's  affection  for  me  was  quite  pathetic,  and 
in  the  early  mornings  and  late  evenings  I 
spent  as  much  time  as  I  could  with  her. 

So  long  as  her  strength  lasted  she  always 
met  me  with  the  rear  up  and  the  gentle  placing 
of  her  little  feet  on  my  shoulders.  She  never 
did  that  to  anyone  else,  but  only  to  me.  It 
was  a  special  favour.  At  any  time  I  had  only 
to  pat  myself  on  the  chest  for  her  to  respond 

236 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

at  once  and  put  her  feet  there.  It  amused  her 
to  walk  after  me  with  her  feet  on  my  shoulders 
Often  she  gave  me  a  Hck  or  two  on  the  face  by 
way  of  a  kiss.  As  long  as  I  was  in  the  field 
she  never  left  me,  and  when  I  went  up  to  the 
other  ponies  she  was  never  a  yard  away. 


Eventually  we  had  to  bring  her  into  the 
stables,  and  all  was  done  to  make  her  as  com- 
fortable and  happy  as  possible,  for  it  was  plain 
that  she  could  not  be  with  us  for  long.  Even 
when  her  weakness  make  it  impossible  for  her 
to  stand,  her  cheeriness  and  indomitable  spirit 
never  left  her.  She  always  neighed  to  me 
when  I  came  in  to  see  her,  and  did  all  she  could 
to  rise  and  was  absolutely  happy  while  I  was 
with  her.  I  spent  all  the  time  I  could  mth 
her.  Very  urgent  business  compelled  me  each 
day  to  go  to  the  City,  but  I  came  back  as  soon 
as  I  could. 


One  morning,  as  I  was  getting  into  my 
carriage  to  catch  my  usual  train,  an  impulse 
seized  me  to  go  to  her  yet  once  again.  A 
little  neigh  and  such  a  pleading  look  was  too 
much  for  me.  I  had  a  very  important  meet- 
ing, but  I  telephoned  that  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  attend.     I  shall  be  glad  all  my  days 

237 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

that  I  had  the  wit  to  understand  and  answer 
that  appeal  so  that  I  spent  those  last  three 
hours  with  her,  soothing  and  petting  her.  I 
sat  on  the  straw  and  she  lay  with  her  head  on 
my  lap — licking  my  fingers.  She  kept  her 
gaze  on  me  the  whole  time,  and  I  can  never 
forget  the  love-light  and  sweet  expression  of 
her  eyes.  Every  now  and  then  she  gave  me 
her  little  neigh.  Towards  the  end  I  think  she 
could  not  see  me  very  well,  for  she  strained  to 
look  at  me.  As  I  stroked  her  I  felt  she  was 
getting  colder  and  colder.  I  kissed  her  and 
spoke  to  her  as  I  would  to  a  dying  child,  and 
she  opened  her  eyes  to  try  to  see  me  and  gave 
me  that  little  neigh  once  or  twice  more.  All 
the  while  she  kept  licking  my  fingers — slower 
and  slower —  and  when  the  last  little  shudder 
came  she  was  still  trying  to  lick  them  and  her 
tongue  remained  touching  my  hand.  And  so 
her  dear  spirit  fled. 


And  whither  ? 


238 


The   water  where   Windermere  died 


Mafia,  and    her   filly    foal    Marmafia    by    Marzouk 

[To  face  yage  23a 


The  black    "  Guardian    Angel  "    Parachute 


[To  face  page  239 


AFTERWORD 

I  HAVE  been  much  criticised  for  my  repre- 
hensible habit  of  keeping  ponies.  I  have 
been  told  that,  as  a  poor  man,  it  was  a  criminal 
waste  to  spend  good  money  on  a  number  of 
useless  animals.  My  depravity  has  been  dis- 
cussed with  my  friends  and  relations,  and  even 
my  sanity  has  been  impeached.  Painful 
visions  of  the  Workhouse  have  been  dangled 
before  me,  as  my  destination  here  below, 
precursory  to  a  torrid  if  not  wholly  incandescent 
hereafter.  It  is  a  discouraging  enough  pros- 
pect to  hold  out  to  a  person  whose  fault  is  that 
the  blood  of  many  generations  of  horsemen 
flows  through  his  veins  ;  but,  goodness  loiows  ! 
Even  that  sweltering  abyss  may  have  its  com- 
pensations. Perhaps  it  is  there  that  Elijah's 
horses  of  fire  are  still  stabled.  Surely  the 
charioteer's  job,  even  if  a  hot  one,  would  be 
extraordinarily  interesting  ! 

But  the  ponies  have  had  their  very  great 
uses — at  all  events  to  me.  It  is  true  that  I, 
like  so  many  other  men  of  late,  have  had  very 
harassing  times  to  pass  through — the  closure 
of  a  great  railway  enterprise  owing  to  the  chaos 

239 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

in  Mexico,  and  of  other  important  railway 
work  in  India  due  to  the  War — in  which  all 
personal  expenditure  has  had  to  be  reduced 
to  the  minimum ;  but  the  ponies  have  well 
earned  their  keep,  pastiu-e  in  summer  "svith  a 
little  hay  in  winter,  which  is  all  they  get. 
Their  affection  and  cheerful  mentality  have 
been  so  really  helpful  to  me.  They  are  always 
so  pleased  to  see  me  and  their  welcome  is  so 
genuine !  Ponies  never  carry  glum  faces  and  cast 
no  reproaches,  ever  !  When  I  am  with  my 
ponies,  I  cannot  help  throwing  off  all  the  worries 
and  troubles  of  the  City,  and,  for  the  time 
being,  forget  them  so  utterly  that  the  mental 
refreshment  is  quite  surprising  ! 

For  the  last  six  years  I  have  had  a  problem 
before  me,  the  solution  of  which  has  taxed  to 
the  utmost  all  the  brain  power  and  inventive 
faculties  of  which  I  am  capable.  It  has  been  the 
invention  of  life-saving  apparatus  for  the  air — 
the  automatically  opening  Aeroplane  Parachute. 
That  I  have  succeeded,  almost  beyond  my 
anticipations,  I  can  say  with  the  utmost  truth, 
is  directly  due  to  the  assistance  given  me,  in 
two  ways,  by  my  ponies. 

As  to  the  first  way,  they  have  composed 
my  mind  from  all  troubles  and  left  me  with  a 
perfectly  clear  brain  to  visualise  the  very 
compUcated  forces  with  which  I  had  to  deal, 
and  to  think  out  the  theoretical  results  of  their 
interaction.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  nearly  all 

240 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

the  important)[solutions  arrived  at  were  at- 
tained in  their  company.  There  was  no 
occasion  more  favourable  for  thinking  out  the 
more  abstruse  problems,  than  when  I  was 
able  to  lie  out  under  the  stars  on  a  summer's 
night,  with  one  warm  pony  stretched  out  for  a 
back  rest,  and  the  others  lying  close  around 
me. 

As  to  the  second  way,  the  habits  I  had 
acquired  of  making  close  and  minute  obser- 
vations of  the  actions  of  my  ponies,  which  are 
governed  by  a  multipUcity  of  direct,  remote 
and  interacting  stimuli,  undoubtedly  quickened 
my  abihties  to  perceive  and  understand  the 
extremely  abstruse  forces  which  enter  into  and 
determine  the  actions  of  Parachutes,  in  the 
very  different  circumstances  of  their  drops 
from  Free  and  Captive  Balloons,  from 
Airships  and  from  the  different  types  of 
Aeroplanes,  and  to  learn  how  to  control  these 
forces  so  that  the  nature  of  the  Parachute  has 
been  changed  from  that  of  the  most  wayward 
and  unruly  libertine,  into  that  of  a  staid 
machine,  of  which  every  detail,  and  its  action, 
is  under  absolute  control. 

The  inter-corelation  of  circumstances  is 
always  a  grim  mystery  to  some  dull  people, 
and  the  aforesaid  detractors,  of  my  ponies  and 
myself,  of  course  never  dreamed  that  I  was 
breeding  ponies  that  could  help  to  invent 
Parachutes.     In  the  National  Pony  Society's 

241| 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

Show  at    Islington   these     Parachute    Ponies 
ought  to  have  a  Class  to  themselves. 

My  taming  of  Horses  and  Ponies  has  most 
certainly  helped  me  to  tame  that  most  uncanny 
beast  the  Parachute,  and,  when  our  Airmen's 
lives  are  being  saved  in  hundreds  by  the 
"  Guardian  Angel "  Parachute,  to  my  ponies, 
God  bless  them,  must  be  given  quite  a  big 
share  of  the  credit. 

Note. — The  above  was  written  in  1917,  when  the 
Guardian  Angel  Parachutes,  with  their  "  positive 
opening"  and  "tangle-proof  rigging"  which  have 
never  once  failed  to  function  exactly  as  they  were 
designed  to  do,  had  been  used  most  successfully,  and 
without  any  mishap  whatever,  for  dropping  "  secret 
service  agents "  at  night  from  aeroplanes  on  to 
positions  previously  selected  behind  the  German  lines. 
The  Guardian  Angel  Aeroplane  Parachute  was  perfected 
and  standardised  in  June,  1916,  after  innumerable 
trials  and  tests,  private  and  official,  from  Government 
Aeroplanes;  since  which  date  official  records  show 
that  more  than  8,000  Flying  Officers  were  killed  in 
machines  falling  in  flames  or  broken  in  the  air.  It 
has  been  estimated  that  of  these  dead  air -fighters  at 
least  half  of  them  would  have  been  saved  alive  if 
they  had  been  provided  with  these  life-saving  para- 
chutes. It  was  the  very  efficiency  of  the  parachute, 
for  its  life-saving  purpose,  which  led  to  its  undoing 
and  condemned  its  use  ;  for  the  authorities  at  the 
Hotel  Cecil,  who  decided  such  matters,  took  the  view 
that  if  this  appliance  were  to  be  placed  at  the  service 
of  Flying  Officers,  for  use  and  escape  in  case  of 
accident,  machines  might  be  needlessly  crashed. 

242 


The  Horse,  as  Comrade  and  Friend 

It  was  not  until  newspaper  correspondents  at  the 
front,  in  August,  1918,  were  constantly  reporting  the 
escape  by  parachute  of  German  officers  from  burning 
or  broken  aeroplances  that  the  Air  Ministry,  over- 
whelmed by  indignant  protests  from  all  sides  that 
our  fighting  officers  had  not  similar  protection,  which 
they  had  so  frequently  asked  for,  at  last  gave  orders 
for  all  military  machines  to  be  so  provided.  The 
first  200  machines  were  in  course  of  b-^ing  fitted  with 
Guardian  Angel  Parachutes  when  the  Armistice  of 
the  11th  November  intervened  to  prevent  the  demon- 
stration of  their  utilities  in  actual  warfare. 

ISIr.  Calthrop  was  honoured  by  the  King  of  Italy 
with  the  Cross  of  Chevalier  of  the  Order  of  St.  Maurice 
and  St.  Lazarus,  in  recognition  of  the  exceedingly 
valuable  services  rendered  by  his  parachutes  on  the 
Piave  front  in  dropping  secret  service  agents  behind 
the  Austrian  lines.  This  successful  work  was  being 
carried  out  at  just  the  time  when,  in  reply  to 
questions  from  hon.  members  urging  that  parachutes 
should  be  adopted  for  life-saving  purposes,  the  Under- 
Secretary  to  the  Air^Ministry  was  repeatedly  assuring 
the  House  of  Commons  that  *'  no  parachutes  suitable 
for  use  from^an^aeroplane  had  yet  been  arrived  at." 


Printed  by  Miller,  S(m  dt  Cai/ipy,,  Fakenham  and  London. 


